Aegis of Candlekeep, Part II
by Kyn
Summary: With the Harpers and Zhents on hiatus, Aegis needs to rebuild half her party if she's to have any hopes of finding that Bandit Camp and interrogating Tazok. The adventurers available to her are insane, but fortunately, she does have quite a lot of experience dealing with this problem. [Large Cast] [Xzar x CHARNAME Romance][Edwin tutors Imoen][Xan x Branwen]
1. The Road

ALERT! Please checkout my deviant art account (Link should be in the profile; name's Spydrouge) for a bit of art containing Xzar and Aegis drinking together XD.

This is Part II of Aegis's journey. Picks up from Nashkel as the group is heading to Beregost to find Tranzig and track down the Bandit Camp. But first! Fabulous Foster Father Flashbacks! (FFFFs)

* * *

The Road

* * *

_Dry lightning. No rain. Dawn was breaking, but it was still night._

_The caravan workers were sure the old man was mad. He perched like a gypsy at the back of his covered wagon, and did not retreat inward to seek the comforts of blanket and bed which he had paid so handsomely for. He did not appear to sleep, even. Perhaps he was an elf, and meditated; they knew little of him. He wore robes of gray and a deep hood. He rocked often, like a madman, clutching a torn piece of fabric that bore the sigil of Oghma in one hand, and muttering incoherently under his breath. They suspected he had paid not for comfort but rather for solitude._

_He did not make eye contact. Even when he was muttering- praying?- he remained huddled around the bundle of tattered cloths and swaddling that he carried. They knew it was a baby, because from time to time it cried. But they had never seen it. He hoarded the child jealously to him and never set it down. When it cried, he would rock or sing to it, or feed it from a wineskin of milk he had no doubt preserved with magic. They believed him to be a mage. He was; or he had been._

_There were others with the caravan; men and women who were traders or adventurers and who tried at times to speak with him, but he always rebuffed them with a silent, cold shoulder. Specifically, however, an elfin wet nurse traveled with them. When she learned of his condition, she approached him and asked to see the baby, and offered to nurse it for him._

_The man slowly lifted his head, and the elf woman stumbled backwards. His eyes were a piercing, dangerous, icy blue; haunted and almost painful to endure. When the initial surprise of his gaze wore off, he looked to half dead. There were ill-healed burns from Anauroch's blazing sun on his face, and dark circles beneath his pink-rimmed eyes. Half dead, but not old. Though silver, his hair was as soft and elegant looking as freshly spun silk. Equally silver feathers bloomed between the locks, and it became readily apparent that he was an aasimar, a part-celestial._

_"Do not come any closer. Do not concern yourself with her. And do not speak to, or of, me again. Please."_

_The elf was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded and disappeared back into the caravan. He was left with the creaking and rocking of the wagon as it rumbled along that evening, the lanterns swinging in the darkness. The aasimar knew this road. He need not make his way to the front of the wagon to know that he was almost there. In his arms, his precious cargo squirmed._

_His daughter was in pain. She was always in pain, and there was so little he could do for her at present. There was only one person Gorion trusted to help her, or rather, to help him. If she had been fully healed, he might have taken her anywhere and passed her off as human. But in her terrible condition, the severity of her curse was immediately and horrifying apparent. Anyone of sufficient standing to heal her would have also been able to guess the truth._

_"We're almost there," he murmured reassuringly to his injured babe. He knew she wasn't hungry, so he gave her his forefinger to suck on for comfort. "We'll know soon. We'll know soon. I promise." She lifted her fingertips without coordination towards him, the eleven, sharpened, ebony claws curling helplessly at the air. He lowered his head to shut out the world, and she managed to catch hold of his silver hair._

_Waterdeep._

_He closed his eyes tightly when the caravan eased to a halt, burying his face into his infant child's hair. She clung to him as naturally as any child, and his smell seemed to comfort her._

_Please be understanding, my old friend. I need your help as I have never needed it before._

* * *

The weather turned sour in the late evening, so Aegis made sure Xzar had a purchased a new pair of hardy walking boots. She had no intention of making the trip to Beregost barefoot for the sake of saving her wizard's feet.

It began raining heavily with the dawn, and by the time they were out on the open road they found themselves in quite the torrential downpour. Aegis didn't mind. She had a few extra days to spend with her madman, and damned if she wasn't going to enjoy them no matter what the weather.

His cloak had been hers once. The exterior was a dull cream and the red interior lining looked rich against his green robes. She reached out and tugged gently at the sigil of her patron, Oghma, on the shoulder of his cloak. "In retrospect, I can't believe you voluntarily wear this. I couldn't do much worse dressing you in Mystra's red and blue."

He grinned toothily. "Smells of Death," he purred. "Think it suits me? Think I could be a bard?" He affected a coy pose, though what exactly that had to do with bards was unknown to her. She laughed anyway, because his expression was doubly strange with the glasgow smile of his tattooed lips.

"Well, you definitely look less _Zhentish_, and a harlequin is no far cry from a bard! But if you're asking me if you should take up the harp, well..." she mused with a wink. "Let's just say: for _some reason_ I just don't quite think it would suit your temperament."

"Has the Little Death thought of it?" he asked abruptly, and Aegis blinked. "Following father number two."

"Becoming a Harper?" Aegis asked, surprised. Then she shook her head. "I think it'll be quite awhile before I'm at a point in my life where I can actually decide _what_ I want to do instead of having problems already all strung out in front of me that need solving."

"You've common... ideas. Philosophies. Altruism? Naivety. Penchant for running errands for hapless farmers?"

"We'll invite Manshoon and Elminster both to the marriage ceremony, then? I hope to see both _incredibly drunk_ telling stories at the bar, but if Elminster polymorphs himself into a woman again I say we all get the _hell_ out of there. And maybe send Mystra an apology note."

Xzar looked at her in horror. Then he broke out with a shriek of childish giggles, covering his face and hopped over to rub himself up against her. "These ideas!" he pleaded. "They come from where!? You burn my mind! You would burn _their_ minds! You cannot be a Harper- never! You are too... too...! Ha! Hahahahah! Eyeballs in jars, indeed-!"

Aegis grinned at him. "Are you going to try and intercept Montaron when you go?" Still snickering, he nodded. "So you'll only be in Beregost the one night?"

Xzar looked skyward, moving his lips in thought. Then he turned a smile on her, pale green eyes curious. "Maybe two. Depends how fast rabbits travel."

"Will he try to kill you?" she asked with honest worry.

The necromancer shook his head. "Only want to. Rules. Not for discussing; another topic?" he prompted.

"Mm. Tell me what you are going to do with those ghoul claws I saw you gathering in Nashkel."

He blinked, surprised by the query. Then he smiled delightedly, his lids lowering halfway. He pushed up against the ranger and eased his arm under her cloak and around her back so he could lean into her without soaking either of them. "Wellll," he drawled playfully, "If you _must_ know, _Byatskhan Moaratuk_..."

* * *

With Jaheira and Khalid departed, the group felt smaller. Branwen and Minsc were discussing the various ways to cook pork. Xan and Dynaheir seemed to have found a topic they could converse on involving spell components.

Imoen did not appear so sullen as before, but she was not her usual chipper self. She walked with Garrick, and although something had obviously happened between them the evening before, it was also equally clear the two were not 'together.' The bard was humming a half-composed ballad, and Imoen was gazing quietly out at nothing. Aegis still had no idea how to talk to her about what had happened with Montaron.

At the rear of the party, their Omega Wolf also did not look to be in very good humor. Aegis tilted her head to the side, wondering what had left Edwin more sour than usual. She could have sworn that his temper had been _improving_ of late, although that had done nothing to dull his caustic sense of humor. Now he was unnervingly silent, and Aegis had never known Edwin to ignore the chance to complain about something. Even something as trite as walking in the rain.

Unlike the rest of them, he had no cloak, instead relying on magical protections to shield him from the rain. The sling over his shoulder, supporting his mending arm, was a strong source of his ire, no doubt. But then he'd been bantering fine just two days ago. Jaheira's words of warning echoed in Aegis' mind, and she remembered the body of Samantha and the blood splatters over the ground.

"I will keep an eye out for now," Xzar told her, as he'd noticed the direction of her gaze. "Later, Xan?"

Aegis nodded, looking to her sister when Imoen suddenly moved. The violet girl came sneakily up beside Xan, a quirk of mischievous cleverness apparent on her facial features. Aegis smirked hopefully, turning back to look at the road.

* * *

"I have noticed thou uses no physical reagents in thine spells," Dynaheir was saying.

Xan nodded. "It has taken me some time to work around certain limitations, but I have been very careful with my spellwork to eschew many components. The reason for this is that by eliminating the-"

"-invariably catastrophic-" Imoen interjected. Xan blinked at her, but continued speaking.

"-need for material components, I've found I am-"

"-doomed-" Imoen piped up.

"-_able_ to hold my moonblade in one hand-"

"-in vain-"

"-and use the other for forming my-"

"-also doomed-" a violet thief added.

"-somatic... compon- are you going to continue doing that no matter what I attempt to say?" Xan asked, perplexed.

"No! You see, I am training you," Imoen told him conspiratorially, "to do the exact same thing to me when I am talking to random people! It will result in all sorts of comic misunderstandings and terrifying predictions! But you sound _much_ more convincing when you do it than I do. You should give it a try!"

"I see," the elf considered this, a not-smile-but-close tugging at his lower lip.

"Exactly! Observe. Aegis!" Imoen called. "I think you should know that this entire adventure is completely and utterly-!"

"-_Doomed_," Xan said with a great heaving sigh containing all the melancholy and drama he could muster, which, given that this was Xan, was a tremendously undeserved amount.

Dynaheir's eyes widened and she quickly put a hand over her mouth, not certain if it was appropriate to mock the despondent elf's personality in this way. But Branwen burst out laughing and Imoen threw a companionably arm around the elf's shoulders, grinning playfully at him, and in general it seemed things were alright. As morose as Xan preferred to be, managing to elicit their first real smile from Imoen since the incident with Montaron _did_ give him a strong sense of accomplishment. Furthermore, he also wasn't perturbed by her hug.

"Aegy!" Imoen laughed slightly. "We are keeping the elf forever!" the violet thief announced. He has humor! I've found it!"

"Blasphemy!" the ranger girl called from the front. "I disbelieve!"

"Apparently the self-depreciating kind," Xan sighed, "as I am sure the more delicate nuances of elfin jokes would be lost on you."

"You can tell _jokes_?" Imoen asked.

Xan considered the prompt. "Ah. No," he agreed. "I can't. Nor do I sing, or frolic, just in case you were wondering. And that thing you do where you squeal and leap up and down clapping your hands? No, not that either. I much prefer to be left to _realism_. We are not a large enough party to take on the upcoming bandit camp, and we are clearly lacking in the healing department with but one cleric- no offense, Lady of Isle! Does our valiant leader have some kind of plan, or are we all marching to certain death?"

"We need to recruit new people," Aegis answered. "We've got Minsc and I for the front line, but shields are definitely not _his_ thing. Even when Xzar and Garrick are gone, that leaves me with three... wizards... to defend..." She paused, a look of dread overcoming her face. Then she started walking again. "This trip is going to wreck _havoc_ in my allergies, isn't it? Alright. So I need at least one additional healer and one or two front-line fighters. But absolutely _no more wizards_."

"I thought thou were starting a wizard collection," Dynaheir asked. "Color coded and such?"

"Where am I going to find that many meat shields for so many wizards!?" Aegis exclaimed, horrified. "No! I can't do it! I wont'! There will be wizards getting shot at left and right! My heart can't take it! I'll break out in hives, and then there will be absolute chaos I tell you. Chaos! And every time there's chaos, I end up covered in something else's organs! I won't have it, I tell you! I hate smelling of decaying offal."

"You're starting to sound as frazzled as Xzar," Imoen complained mirthfully.

"Chaos!" the necromancer agreed.

Their first indication that they were under attack was the arrow flying past Garrick's head as the bard rolled swiftly out of the way. His bard's song produced nearly the same effect as "BANDITS!" might have on the party, as Branwen, Aegis, and Minsc scrambled to shield the team. Dynaheir looked rapidly around, and then a mocking sneer appeared on her face when the first hobgoblins emerged on either side of the party. "_Qomorah vith nos-_" she began to mutter.

"Give her space!" Imoen shouted, dragging Xan backwards as the elf thew up his own self-defense spells. It only took Dynaheir few seconds. Aegis stepped in front of an oncoming arrow, and when the tip hit her it bounced backwards and green and black energy temporarily twisted over her breastplate. She grinned. Thank the gods for paranoid necromancers and their totally bizarre _Protection from Evil_ spells!

"-_veyl sot viidost!"_

Brilliant white energy burst forward and backward from the wizard in a tremendous and instantaneous bolt. A dozen black and charred bodies later, and it became abundantly clear why it was a silly idea to jump a Wychlaran in a rainstorm.

"Kill the wizard!" the Hobgoblins shouted to each other, but they were too late to rally to this new target. Branwen covered the Wychlaran on one side and Xan, now fully shielded against arrows, stepped forward as a magical shield to block her other side.

"They want to do WHAT to Minsc's Witch!? BOO! Go for the eyes! GO FOR THE EYES! RAAAAGH!"

"WRONG ANSWER!" Aegis agreed with a shriek, bolting forward from her defensive stance, her axe in hand as she bowled through the oncoming hobgoblins. She threw her large shield up a half foot, grabbed the alternative grip, and then swung the weapon's edge forward like a club, braining the first hobgoblin that got in her face. The second met her axe.

Xzar darted after her, his fingers shimmering with blue energy. The next fool to try and close with her had his entrails frozen solid within his body cavities, and fell backwards with an agonized howl. On the other side of the part, Minsc was sending hobgoblin components flying with huge swings of his greatsword. A few of the hobgoblins got into the center of the party, but Xan calmly charmed two and out-traded the last one with his sword, stabbing the brute twice before grasping the blade two-handed and slicing off hobgoblin's head with a swift horizontal strike. By the time he was done, Imoen had shot the remaining bowmen full of holes.

* * *

"I'm glad I sent Jaheira off in the Ankheg plate," Aegis muttered as Minsc pulled the newest arrow out of her shoulder and Branwen held her steady. "Much as I would have liked some at the moment. The road is much safer for them both this way. Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow..."

"Perhaps we need more shields that don't break off running into the brush shrieking for blood at the first sign of enemy aggression," Xan observed dryly. "I'm afraid if I am left in charge of party defense while you two are off cracking skulls, everyone is going to end up very sorely-"

"-sprinkled with cookies!" interjected Imoen. Xan looked at her. "I am offering a counterbalance to your negative energy," the violet thief told him sagely.

"-dead. And disappointed," Xan was amused. "Aegis?"

"That's not fair! They said something about killing wizards!" Aegis protested. "Okay. Well. Maybe having me rage so hard in Nashkel Mines familiarized me with bad habits. You're right. I'm going to try and make sure I am more cognizant of my... defensive placement... in the future."

"Thou truly can handle the sword," Dynaheir remarked to Xan. "I am impressed. May I credit thy mastery of such disparate but complementary skills as enchantment and swordsmanship to thine age?"

"Mastery? If I were more clever, I would have specialized in abjuration," the enchanter remarked. "But I repeat that defense is not my specialty."

Edwin came up beside where the rest of the group was waiting. Imoen glanced up to see that he had mage-armor cast upon himself. Then in retrospect she didn't remember him adding any of his spells to the battle. Apparently she wasn't the only one who had noticed this oddity; the other wizards were all eyeing the Red Wizard uncertainly. Edwin had many flaws; but a refusal to pull his own weight when it came to showing off his spell casting mastery was not one of them. What was going through his head?

He didn't answer their stares except with his own. He emanated an aura of silence. Bitter, hostile silence.

* * *

When they had started walking again, Xan leaned closer to Dynaheir. "Do you think he is planning something?" the elf asked in a minute whisper, though in walking at their side Imoen was close enough to overhear.

The Wychlaran shook her head unknowingly. "He does still have his fire protections. He _could_ be waiting till evening... Be cautious, nothing more. He is not particularly resilient to charms."

Imoen lifted a brow. They hadn't figured it out? Of _course_ they hadn't. And that was the way he wanted it, no doubt, calculating and manipulative jerk that he was.

Was that what Edwin had wanted to talk to her about at the Belching Dragon? Ho, must have been! He was paranoid at the best of times, and he must have discovered the problem when he'd been casting abjurations on himself the evening before.

Well, he'd sure been a selfish jerk about how he'd approached her, but the fact that he'd come to _her_ to talk sent a warming sensation through Imoen's buttery heart... right up until she remembered she'd dumped a goblet of wine over his head. And why.

With great bitterness, she remembered the caustic, teasing, verbal barbs he'd driven under her skin. She'd been so angry with him, and she was sure that he'd nearly lit her up like a match for it. _Montaron would have called me an idiot for messing with such a dragon-!_

A drained feeling washed over Imoen, and her expression became washed out, gray. _Why?_ He'd tried to slit Aegis' throat. He'd almost gotten away with it too. _Was that only two days ago? Feels like forever._ Imoen owed her sister's life to none other than the insane necromancer comparing hobgoblin organs at the front of the group.

What were men _capable_ of if Montaron had been able to show her affection in one moment and able to try murdering her sister in the next? The halfling had been Aegis' wingman during the underground lake battle! It didn't make any sense! And how was Imoen supposed to keep something like this from ever happening again? She'd read _everything_ wrong.

Imoen felt Garrick's touch on her shoulder and realized that she'd stopped walking. The bard was looking down at her in concern. She blinked rapidly, sighed, and then gave him a tentative smile. "I'll be fine," she told him. He knew it was a lie, but he nodded and kept walking. She followed some distance behind. Weirdly enough, she didn't want to confide in someone she'd _been_ with.

_This isn't fair. Feeling like this isn't fair. _She wanted her friends all around her and someone to hold her; and yet at the same time she wanted everyone at arm's length, and her skin crawled at the idea of sharing her heart with another person again. _I'm angry, but it's making me bitter and mean and... and..._

-and prone to dumping wine on her least-forgiving friends, apparently.

_He's not my friend. He's a horrible creature who promised he'd betray us. _And Imoen absolutely was not going to stand for another round of that! _He has the same exact coldness inside him that makes hurting other people 'okay.'_ _He's evil. It's just a matter of time before-_

But then a sensation of dread worked its way up in her, because laying back and accepting that was not okay either. Not necessarily even just because Dynaheir, Imoen, or Aegis might get die! The thought of facing down Edwin Odesseiron made her panic; and not because she feared fire. Imoen never wanted to see one of her friends on the other side of the fence ever again, for so long as she lived!

_He's not my- Oh, balderdash. He's not my friend, except that he is. He is, and I said it out loud to his face, over and over, and over again. And then, sigh, I threw wine at him. And he didn't even really do anything wrong that wasn't, well, normal for him. Nope. In fact, he might have been asking for my help. Just in the dunder-headed jerk way._

Soft footsteps came up along the road beside her, and she realized she'd stopped walking again. A few moments later, the Thayvian came level with her. The Red Wizard didn't breathe a word as he turned his baleful, blank, and unchanging stare on her, but he did stop walking. Imoen gave him a slow smile. His eyes narrowed slightly.

{I had a thought!} she proclaimed on the realization that Edwin hadn't spoken to anyone in over a day. She used her best Mulhorandi; There was one thing that could usually start Edwin talking no matter the scenario, and that was treating him to a conversation in his native language.

{Not a word to me, harlot, or Kelddath Ormlyr and his Sirines will be reconstituting your skull from a pile of ash. Move.}

Imoen beamed. _Bingo_. She started walking again with a little skip to her step. He eyed her darkly, but then continued moving and kept pace with her. For a long moment she was silent, but she really was busting at the seams. {Do you not want to know my thought?} she finally demanded.

{No. Your pronunciation is disgusting, and I am enjoying the silence.}

{I think I probably should not sleep with any more of my party members,} she laughed.

{You are off to a rousing start, little whore,} the conjurer gestured at Garrick with his walking staff.

{Hey! He doesn't count; he is leaving,} Imoen teased in protest. {No, but I meant: I do not think I want to be that close to someone again for awhile.}

The Red Wizard looked at her. Being forced to converse with her was wearing on his very last threadbare nerve. Imoen grinned at him and walked in silence for a bit.

Then: {You are not left-handed,} she said at last. {It is a specific quirk of your personality; you would never voluntarily imagine yourself crippled, so you'd have no reason to exercise your off-hand. How agile are your fingers?}

A snarl of draconic, and then a _Burning Hands_ spell that flared up his left arm, and the flame-wreathed fingers had stopped inches from her face. He glared at her. {So...} she winced, pausing a moment and then walking a little further from him, {The only spell you feel comfortable showing off... is one of your oldest and most familiar?}

Eyes widened at her, brows knitting in hatred.

Imoen smirked and lifted her hands innocently. {Calm down. I'm your friend, remember?} she told him jovially. {Dynaheir can't hear, and Xan can't understand, and I'm not about to tell either of them.}

The Thayvian watched her for a moment more. Then he turned his gaze out at nothing, his hand lowering subtly. Imoen frowned, looking to the road briefly as she circumnavigated a puddle. She heard a dark chuckle and looked up again. {Are you really?} he asked mockingly, softly; both amused and disgusted by her. The word 'friend' had little to no real meaning to him at all. {Are they frightened?}

{Yes. You are doing a fabulous job terrifying people who have no idea you now botch half of everything you try to cast,} she rolled her eyes at his paranoia. {Happy?}

He grimaced, dismissing the Burning Hands spell and then grabbing her arm and dragging her around to look at him. {They mutter scared about me, and you drop back to simper apologies?} he laughed in an incredibly unfriendly voice. {You insult me, little whore.}

{You chauvinistic, eastern jerk,} she scowled. {Why would I ever apologize to you? You were being cruel. I hit you back for it. Fair's fair.}

{My, my, such insults,} he purred dangerously. {But you don't see me whining and chattering pretending to be your, ahem, 'friend,' now do you? Move. We are falling behind.} He was being nasty but she knew the peacock dragon was merely acting, and to prove it she reached over and snatched up his hand. Eyes darted to her and he glared violently, jerking back. She held fast to the limb, and she had both hands to do it with!

Imoen grinned, knowing he couldn't cast while she had control of his fingers. {If I know what is really going on, why would I try to suck up to you for Xan and Dynaheir? Honestly, your head goes in too many knots for me to follow sometimes, dragon.}

The appellation was not lost on him, but it seemed to make him angry. {Release my person, wench,} he told her in a low voice. {We are falling behind. I can no longer even see the party for the rain.}

{Edwin, come on, what is bothering you? Everyone messes up. Even people made of cake and sparkles like me!}

His fingers closed against hers, his nails driving into the skin. He stepped up to her, leering down at her as his fingers of his dominant hand twitched unseen within the sling. {Do you think I will submit one instant to the whims of a manipulative, thieving, little slut? Let go, before I _insist_.}

Imoen lifted a mischievous brow. Then there was the thud of something against flesh and the force drove her into him. Her mouth opened in surprise and then there was another thud, another unintentional lurch, as a second arrow bloomed from her back.

Edwin's eyes widened in surprise and he grabbed her shoulder almost reflexively. Then he released her, looking at the treeline where two surviving hobgoblins were moving towards them and nocking fresh arrows.

_"Mithil do yolos..." _he muttered rapidly in Draconic, and tried to ignore feelings of elation when the flaming red bead of light began to twist naturally under his gesturing fingers. He didn't feel Imoen as she collapsed to the ground; she didn't exist. _Obey me, weave for me..._

* * *

Edwin must have managed the spell, because Imoen heard the rush of air as the fireball came into being, and the howls of two thoroughly cooked hobgoblins who did not survive the throw. She was shaking, and her arms felt weak and heavy, like lead.

Imoen rolled onto her shoulder, and the cobbles were so hard they almost kept her from moving. Her fingers searched her belt for the healing potion and drew it out trembling. She was going to be okay! Everything was going to be-

Clawed fingers snatched the vial out of her hand.

Imoen twitched, looking up to see Edwin Odesserion crouching beside her. He held the healing potion just slightly above her; still technically within her reach, but perhaps beyond her strength.

"E-edwin...?" she asked, confused. But he merely stared at her, his face blank, and said nothing.

Imoen was getting dizzy. She could feel heat and shock and pain where the arrows were embedded in her. She could feel dampness, warm dampness, and smell iron. Still the Thayvian did not move or call out for help.

"D... did I really h-hurt you that b-badly?" she asked him, and she was having trouble keeping eye contact because she couldn't hold up her head. Then she remembered the brutal answer Montaron had taught her: sometimes there wasn't a real human reason, just a quick calculation.


	2. Normality

ALERT: Slightly slightly NSFW Montaron/Imoen Snuggling appeared on the Deviant Art!

This chapter will contain a fabled flashback within a flashback! But not yet. Wait for the FFFF.

* * *

Some calculations were quicker than others.

Imoen felt his knee as he pressed down into her back, and then a wrenching pain as he pulled the arrow out from between her ribs. He must have used the unstopped potion then, because a blissful cooling sensation poured over her injury. A moment later, he tore out the second arrow. He shifted to kneel beside her, tossed the arrow aside, transferred the vial from his injured hand to his functional one, and overturned the rest of the potion into the second wound.

Trembling, but now able to move, Imoen slowly pushed her torso off the ground. She looked weakly up at the Thayvian, and at his still relatively blank expression. She was more valuable to him alive than dead at the moment; that was his judgement.

Probably because he could not wrap his mind around the idea that Dynaheir would not push her advantage and attack him. Because he was nervous. Because he would rather kill her himself than be murdered on the road because of a damaged arm. Because he trusted in his ability to manipulate her into protecting him. Because... because...

Edwin hadn't tried to slit Aegis' throat. Imoen had crawled up to him and put her arms around his waist and was now trembling violently into his lap, her tears mixing with the rain and mud splattered over her face. It wasn't gratitude, exactly, but it needed to get out.

Remarkably, Edwin did not immediately say anything, nor push her off of him. Of course he also didn't touch her reassuringly; He wasn't _human_ enough to. Perhaps his silence was owed to slight trauma as per violation of his personal space. That would serve him right, it would.

* * *

_As the caravan eased to a halt to procure its entrance into Waterdeep, Gorion thought back to the many times he had been to the city over the last few years. He thought back to the start: the start of his damnation, and the beginning of his end. He thought back to the quest in Amn, years past..._

_"Is that the last of them?" the aasimar asked, face distraught._

_Walking out from the dismal caverns, the half-elf druid and the Amnian warrior shared amused grins with one another. For a man with no professed interest in marriage, Gorion had an adorable soft spot for children when it suited him. Beggar waifs were a tax on party coffers no matter what city they entered. _

_"Yes," Jaheira said, relieved. "And not a single life lost, at that. We were immeasurably fortunate this day. Is Aliana with them now?" _

_Gorion breathed a sigh and nodded; their cleric was tending to the wounded children. "Thank Mystra. She says she's found no worse than scratches, rashes, and chafing."_

_The Amnian man, who was named Ribald, had only been traveling with them for a few seasons. To be honest, he was incredibly grateful they'd come to help him with this quest, as he doubted he could have handled it alone. They had eschewed quite some interesting Harper business to do so. "We will need to house them briefly until we are able to get them back to their respective parents. At least this damn plague of kidnappings is finally ended."_

_"I shudder to think what would have happened to them," the aasimar muttered._

_Jaheira glanced at the mage as if he were naive. "They were kidnapped by fringe Bhaalite cultists, Rion. You can very well guess what would have happened."_

_"One thing yet bothers me," Gorion shook his head, reaching up to scratch his chin thoughtfully. "We don't understand how or why they picked the children they did. Their choices seemed random. Rich, poor, orphan, non, any race and any region... there seems to be no logic to it. Some were clearly easy; others they put great effort in to. What were they after, exactly?"_

_"The children were all within a few months of age," Ribald pointed out._

_"Indeed, but that has no significance I understand," the mage murmured. Then he sighed. "Well, I may as well bother Khelben on the topic if we are headed north after this."_

_Jaheira shot him an amused look. "What? You, Rion? Bother Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun?" she teased. "Good. Get him out of his house and away from his fellow lords; that man spends too long in that unnatural tower of his."_

_"I have the tavern route plotted," Gorion assured her with a wink._

_"... Or you could go for a walk someplace green..." she muttered to convey he'd misunderstood._

_"How are we going to get either of them married off if they spends their free time wandering in the wilderness?" Ribald protested."We all get enough of that every day anyway!"_

_Jaheira's eyes widened. "Gods forbid either of them marries a woman they meet in a tavern," she shuddered in horror. "Especially men I know visit festhalls...!"_

_Gorion peered at them in annoyance and then shook his head. For all her power and wild druidism, parts of Jaheira's personality ran formal at times. After no more than one innocuous glass of wine a year past, she and the rest of the party had somehow spontaneously homed in on the fact that not only was Gorion unmarried, but that it appeared all male Chosens of Mystra (which Gorion was not, he insisted, but they ignored him) were 'incapable' of settling down with life partners._

_Gorion had protested that Khelben _had_ been married, but it seemed as if selecting partners with shorter lifespans than himself somehow negated that detail in the half-elf's mind, as she also ignored it. _

_Now they were set on finding him a woman. Ridiculous! Gorion protested about fae love, the promiscuity of elves, issues with immortality, how no one else in the party was married either, and so forth; but apparently none of these arguments had any impact at all. The party was determined to find Gorion a wife and make an honest wizard of him. Or something. Which was the most ludicrous and backwards collection of ideas he had ever heard of. Honestly speaking, it wasn't even like he had been with zounds of women. And no matter what Jaheira thought, he had never paid for 'special' services at any festhall. So there. _

_Gods above, his patron was Mystra! He had quite the healthy fear of accidentally disrespecting a woman!_

_Now Ribald, on the other hand, had wenched at least once in every hole from Sembia, to Calimshan, to Amn; and Jaheira had said nothing more to him than to insist he bathe before returning to the inn room the two shared. Which of course, although often drunk to stupidity, the fighter dutifully and unfailingly respected (Jaheira's quarterstaff-thwacking-prowess was legendary among all foolish males who dared to travel with her.) But that was beside the point: How was Ribald not hypocritical?_

_Well, enough thinking about that. There were more immediate and pressing concerns to be had than the inconsistent standards of a half-elf. Like a gaggle of poor undeserving little children who had nearly been sacrificed to the God of Death. Bhaal would _not_ be happy for the raid, doubtless, but then Harpers frequently affronted the evil gods. One could even say it was part of their job. __"We will find out what was happening here," Gorion vowed aloud eventually. "I don't ever want to see so many infants in cages again for so long as we live." Jaheira nodded in agreement._

_But alas, it appeared not all of his friends would not let the topic drop. "Rion," the Amnian laughed, "if you don't want to get married, you should consider knocking up a whore!"_

_Jaheira whirled and punched the man clear across the jaw. He yelped in surprise, staggering to the side, and then laughed even harder at Gorion's traumatized expression. _

_"What? What? What's it matter to you where they come from? You would make a great da! You adore the little ankle-biters!"_

_"In the abstract!" the mage shuddered. "Why are we even talking about this? What a subject for this hour! Fine! In practice, children are terrible, hungry, dirty, rambunctious, loud, and demanding creatures! Much like yourself, actually..." A laugh from Ribald. "Furthermore, if I visited women of a certain persuasion- which I do not!- far be it from my mind to use them as aasimar factories-!"_

_Jaheira gave him a look. Gorion stopped talking and politely looked anywhere but at her. There were very good reasons mage and druid did not share a room. That was an old road, in no need of re-visitation. That their friendship yet endured was blessing enough. Whatever he'd said to upset her, it was best he did not continue on the topic for any reason._

_"Let's just get this matter settled and get north," Jaheira sighed and picked up the pace to trudge ahead of them. "Before the two of you get into another argument about halberds, butter, faerie dragons, nectarines, or something else equally stupid."_

_"Rion, isn't she younger than you?" Ribald asked of Gorion, leaning close to speak softly._

_The mage shook his head and shrugged helplessly. "Sometimes I wonder."_

* * *

{Are you going to bawl like this every time someone heals you?} the Thayvian drawled after a short while had passed, and the cocksure arrogance was suddenly back in his voice.

{You took- my potion!} Imoen laughed, and then hiccoughed. "Y-you nearly l-let me d-d-!}

{Ah, but I didn't. Nor do you have two arrows fused into your healed backside. Tut, tut, and here I thought we were 'friends.' What makes you think I didn't intend to use the potion on your wounds from the start, only to be interrupted briefly by the difficulty of being short one hand?}

{Y-you are s-such and assface!} she cackled, more and more tears fresh on her cheeks. Instead of getting genuinely mad at her, the Thayvian just smirked. Somehow, unexplained and unprovoked, the world had regained a shadow of its normality.

{Can you get up, or are you so enjoying rolling about in the mud, serf? (And in my lap, hmm...)}

{Oghma, Edwin, you are _muttering_!} she grimaced and laughed at the same time.

{I do not _mutter, _you little kleptomaniacal, asinine, slut of a beldam.}

{You are muttering! Just like you were muttering about Dynaheir's underclothing!}

He paused, thinking. {Is _that_ why she slapped me?}

{Yes, you awful, nasty dragon, that's why!}

The Red Wizard considered this for a moment. {Can you try to restrain me when I am doing it?} he asked slowly, as if not wanting to admit anything at all to her. _Normality._

Imoen looked up at him, wiping her face with her arm. {Should I pinch you or something?}

He gave her an annoyed look, and then sighed heavily and with great suffering. {Are you going to get up? (I do not remember pulling an arrow out of her spine-) Ow! Wretched, ungrateful, little-! Oh.} He looked disturbed, as if confronted with a bad habit he had been _sure_ he'd kept under control. {Do I do it that frequently?} _  
_

_Normality! _Imoen smiled. Still trembling, she pushed herself slowly up to her knees, wiping mud and loose stones off herself Edwin eyed her warily. {No, only when you're in the right mood for it. Frustrated, usually.}

{Well, I _am_ frustrated often following you _fools,} _he grumbled, pushing himself up to his feet and dusting himself off.

{Thanks for forgiving me,} she said quietly but contently.

{I have done nothing of the sort, little purple harlot. It would be_ inconvenient_ for you to die. More inconvenient than the trial of _enduring_ you.}

{Well, you're talking to me again! That's a relief.} Some of her witty buoyancy came back to her.

{Because, child, I have remembered you are guileless, naive, stupid, and easy to manipulate when permitted to act like a lost puppy. Have you learned nothing at all from your _last_ experience playing 'friends' with someone?}

Imoen stood up slowly, wincing at the pain in her back but otherwise smiling. _Normality. _{_I_ wasn't ready to be a decent friend yet that day. Um... Edwin... I shouldn't have... I _should_ say I'm sorry. I think maybe I took- um... took-}

{- took out your anger at the halfling on me,} he completed for her. {Yes. I noticed. Are you going to kick me in the testes as well? You may as well try; seeing as I successfully managed one fireball already, it seems I am primed for failing the next one.}

{Oh don't play the victim, peacock. You deserved it! The first one. Not the second. I'll apologize for the second, but not the first!}

{If you _ever_ try to humiliate me again, I will ensure the sale of your soul to a devil...} The threats weren't hollow, but the feeling behind them was tame.

{Very well. I promise not to tell the others how valiantly you saved my life and gush about how you cried, 'Hold on, Immy! Hold on, I'll save you!' while fighting off the entire oncoming hoard of a thousand Hobgoblins who all wanted to further sully my virtue!}

The Red Wizard stared at her. Imoen beamed up at him. A moment passed in silence. {Well fortunately, _no one_ would believe _that,_} he muttered as he started walking again.

* * *

"Um," Xzar said slowly, tugging on Aegis's sleeve. "Are you aware...?"

"Yes, I'm aware," the ranger answered.

Xan perked up. "What is-?" He looked behind them to see that the party was short two members, and Garrick had a perplexed and worried expression on his face. "Oh _no_. She's _doomed_. You... you knew they were missing, but you said nothing?" he looked up at Aegis.

For her part, the ranger laughed. "Out of everyone in this entire group, Imoen is maybe the only one Edwin Odesserion actually seems to get along with on a regular basis. They fell behind bickering with eachother. I'm hoping whatever's up with him, she can straighten it out."

"Have you not had enough of betrayals for one week!?" Xan was quite upset. "What if he slits her throat and simply turns around to walk back to Nashkel? How can you not be worried!?"

Aegis lifted a brow. "What if the one-armed man slits the throat of the extremely clever thief? Hmm. He spent an entire cave-in trapped with her talking to him the whole time, prior to us rescuing you. If he didn't tear her head off then, he's not going to do so now. You remember he took his wards down at her insistence, don't you? Well..."

Branwen and Xan shared a look. Then they both looked back to their valiant leader. "Aegis," Branwen said slowly. "The day Montaron tried to kill you, Edwin tracked down where Imoen had hid and... well she came back crying her eyes out, and he came back in a _wrath_."

Aegis perked up. "Oh," she said quietly. "Well _that _explains why he's so bitter. He wasn't exactly on good terms with anyone else."_  
_

"Pardon my confusion but... how did you recruit Edwin?" Xan asked slowly, dread deeper than fear rising in his gut. "He seems to be the wild card here. No explicit connection to you or to the iron crisis."

"He wanted to hire us to kill Dynaheir; only trouble was she was already in our party. Then he asked to be permitted to kill her. Naturally, we refused."

Xan gaped. "So you _recruited_ the man?"

"Yes!" answered Aegis. " I told him to come along to keep an eye on her. Not bad, eh?"

"... We are all going to die following you," Xan realized, sadly.

"If Edwin weren't interested in something longer term than Dynaheir, he wouldn't be with us. He's either after information on the iron crisis, or something else. This isn't just about her anymore, and I think we can trust him to act reasonably while he's with the party."

"You do realizing that you are traveling with two people whom, when this party is at its conclusion, will- no matter what you do- reduce themselves to but one in number?" Xan asked, dismayed and disheartened.

Xzar laughed, snuggling up against his ranger. "Not... necessarily! Edwin is a Conjurer. His forbidden school is Divination. Given the proper timing and preparation, Dynaheir can vanish like a ghost out from under his nose. And Dynaheir has already conveyed she is unwilling to start that fight, so..."

Both other mages perked up and look from one another to Xzar, whom Aegis was also regarding with surprise. The necromancer smiled.

"Oh _my_. Eegee, are you... perhaps... rubbing off on me?" he asked in mock-horror. "No! Impossible. But I am starting to think the things you would think if you could think like I think while thinking like you. That's good. Someone has to! Your mind has too many leaves in it for magic to fit."

* * *

Aegis was just about to go back and find out if the Thayvian really had killed her sister- or vise versa, given how badly Edwin routinely needed someone to throttle him- when suddenly she paused and peered through the heavy rains uncertainly. The storm was getting worse as the day wore on.

"Something's coming," Xan agreed, straining his ears and glancing up at the rangers.

"Foosteps?" Minsc suggested with his head cocked to the side.

Then someone was rushing at them through the rain in heavy armor! Aegis immediately raised her shield and Minsc his greatsword, and whomever it was slowed briefly at the sight of them. They did not stop, however.

"Help me!" the person called in a voice of strangled fear and dismay. It was a woman, and the words were apparently super, secret, Aegis-commandeering, code words for 'drop your weapons so I can stab you,' because that's basically what the ranger did. She lowered her axe and grunted in surprise when the woman crashed straight into her.

To be fair, It was certainly less risky for Aegis to be altruistic while she had a hyper-paranoid necromancer liming up a ghoultouch spell at her elbow. He was already trembling with the eagerness to _kill, remove, separate, freeze, _with his eyes wide and his pupils contracted to dots

"Help me!" the woman cried again. "Help me, if you don't help me, th-they'll kill me!"

"Who the hell are-?" Aegis protested.

And then, abruptly, there was a trio of Flaming Fist hurrying through the rain, their weapons bared. Aegis jumped in surprise and then looked down at the woman with a scowl.

"What did you _do_?!" the ranger exclaimed.

"Nothing!" the woman begged. "Nothing! No theft, no murder, I just- I only-!"

Xan prodded curiously. "Well tell us. We are inclined to hear you out fairly however doomed you might be."

The woman was heavily hooded and shadowed, and though she tried to stammer out something it was the Fist who spoke first.

"Stand aside, traveler!" the first of the enforces called as he and his men slowed to a halt some distance from the party. "That woman is a drow, and we've been tracking her for miles! Watch your ribs! You want no part of her!"

_[What!?]_ Xan exclaimed almost hysterically in elfin, leaping backwards into Branwen. She was so unyielding that the impact of him hitting her nearly knocked him over. Fortunately, she caught his arm.

Xzar, however, had been keeping careful tabs on the safety of each one of his lover's many ribs, and it was his assessment that their new gloved-and-hooded acquaintance carried only a mace upon her person. Furthermore, a quick analysis of her person had alleviated some of his poison-related fears (he was ill-supplied with the ingredients for handling drow poisons at the moment!)

He looked up at Aegis, who had given no more reaction to the word 'drow' as she ever had to 'necromancer'. She glanced down at him and he shrugged innocently. "This one is no assassin," he told her. "Not kit for it. No spider sigils either, interesting."

"What is a 'Drow,' Boo?" Minsc asked, and then drew the hamster up beside his ear to listen.

"Please, I've done nothing wrong!" the drow woman sputtered.

"Uh-" Aegis hazarded. "Sirs, why is this woman under arrest?"

"She is a _Drow_!" the enforcer exclaimed in disbelief.

Aegis fidgeted. "Has she flayed anyone ailve? Poisoned any villages? Spied for the Amnish?"

"We know not yet the full extent of her crimes, and if she comes _quietly_ we will be sure to question her."

Aegis blinked slowly. A moment passed in silence. "Please tell me she's at least kicked a puppy..." the ranger muttered in disbelief.

"I am a cleric, and an outcast!" the woman begged. "I would be willing to help you, offer my services- anything!- I want no quarrel with these men, you, or anyone else!"

"Alright, that's enough," the enforcer muttered, insulted by Aegis' tone. "Either stand aside or we will be forced to carry out our jobs manually and arrest you as well!"

"Halfway to _Amn, _out in the wilderness?" Aegis asked incredulously. "What, because she's a Drow?"

"By the gods, girl, yes!" another enforcer exclaimed. "Are you simple? Do you not know what it means when we say she is a Drow? Can any of your party elabor-"

Aegis shrugged. "So's Drizzt Do'Urden," she argued, unconvinced. "Xan, are you still within the realm of sanity at the moment? Still with me?"

A strangled and inarticulate, but largely affirmative, noise answered her. Branwen kept hold of the enchanter, slipping her warhamer free of her belt with the other hand.

"Aha! I understand!" Minsc announced.

"Stand._ Aside._" The enforcers were starting to approach.

"Sleep," Aegis called back to the enchanter. Then she grabbed the drow's arm and pushed the woman protectively behind her. Xzar refastened himself tightly to her side as the ranger brought her shield to bare.

Xan grimaced hard, his face a mask of dismay and almost pain. Then he felt Branwen's grasp tighten on his arm, and the Flaming Fist were starting to charge, so he lifted up his hands.

* * *

I AM THE LAW!

Surprise! Everyone was young once!

The Author accepts any and all horror from the concept that a male PC and Gorion may, theoretically speaking, have romanced the same woman. Elf blood does that. I'm pretty sure Khelben has been married like 5 times...

Oh Edwin, what are we going to do with you. Are you going to take down half the party in a giant fwoom when you get your arm back? Oh hey... did you maybe accidentally drop a hint about what was going through your mind by reusing a fairly old insult...? :3


	3. Protective Inclinations

To his chagrin, she began to whistle.

{Did not you almost die recently? Ugh. Stop! What... are you so... _happy_ about? It is incredibly_ irritating_. It is like listening to you whine, only worse, because I can tell you are concocting some nonsense in your mind.}

{Me? Oh nothing, nothing! Only...}

{Only what?} he growled. {Do not think to-}

{-only, hehe, how long does your spell to protect you from rain last?} She knew how long; roughly the same amount of time it had taken them to get from Nashkel into Nashkel mines.

Edwin frowned. He thought back, trying to get an accurate sense of time. Then with a scowl he began casting a lengthy little ritual. His expression blanked out, masking concern.

Imoen watched him with amusement. Then she pulled her pack off of her back (with a wince) and opened it up to rummage within. She felt his words falter when a somatic gesture failed to come together. He started anew. {Aha!} she proclaimed, pulling free a package. Edwin cringed at the sound of her voice, losing the spell again and turning to glare.

{Be silent, little harlot. If I end up drenched because of you...}

{Yes yes, big old scarydevils, I know, peacock! Here, I was going to give you this as a present anyway before... eh, before everything went batty...} He glanced down at her bag, causing Imoen to go wide-eyed and hoard it to herself. {My shinies!} she protested, and he wondered exactly which one of them ought to be called 'dragon.' {You take your present and you be happy with it!}

{I am in the middle of casting.}

She offered the package out to him more emphatically. Realizing what she was most likely offering him, Edwin snagged the bundle with a growl. He pulled open the folds of waxed paper and then blinked in surprise. A moment later he had extracted the new cloak and shaken it out. It was what Imoen would have described as gaudily, shockingly red; and it was trimmed and broken up by neat lines of gold.

{This is _Thayvian_ red,} he muttered in disbelief. Red pigments were neither common nor cheap; Thayvian red least of all.

{Yup! And the dye cost me an arm and a leg this far west, so you sure had better be happy with it!} She looked up with him with her best and most heart-winning innocent expression (perfected after a lifetime of thieving from her elders).

Edwin scowled at her. {What is this?}

She rolled her eyes and came up to him, taking the cloak and orienting it before casting it about his robed shoulders. {Like I said; it was supposed to be a present back before I decided I hated you, you nasty peacock,} she re-explained. {I bought a couple presents for people! I will have to remember to hand them out in Beregost...}

He tilted his head to the side, and watched her a little perplexed as she clasped it against his collar and pulled the much heavier hood up over his robe's.

{I figured if you'd wanted a normal cloak you would already wear one, instead of wasting all those cantrips. So I got to thinking, and so this one is enchanted against fire, and the protections should harmonize! Ah, what a girl can do with a carnival of mages and gambling venues! Fools, all of them!} Edwin grabbed her arm firmly, and she was worried for a moment by how blank his expression was. Hostile, she thought, but disbelieving.

{I do not need your pity, knave. If you think an unnecessary gift and backhanded apologies are going to earn you some perverse sort of loyalty, you should wake up and remember all the good fortune you had with your halfling.}

Imoen flinched. {Stop... stop mentioning him! What is wrong with you? Don't you get other people at all?!}

{I get that you are an insipid little whore who should well learn to respect your betters and fear your circumstantial allies instead of expecting any of them to treat you kindly.}

{I- You- Okay. Edwin!} She grabbed his shoulders. {First of all, I am not a whore! Or at least, I wasn't! I was a maiden! I lived in a library my whole life with no boys my age, and my closest experience to a real adult relationship was reading elfin romances! Of which there are a lot. That story about the fall of the drow still makes me tear up atimes...}

A brow lifted in disbelief, surprise and amusement. {That _does_ explain some things.} He looked up at nothing in particular, thinking. {(Though I wonder if it is to be believed... )}

{Everything that happened- everything that happened over the last two months!- meant the world to me! So you can stop stabbing me about it and find something else to nag about! Nag me about being a whiny, irritating little chimpanzee and for having terrible pronunciation in every language you know, and for having a half ogre for a sister; but for the sake of the gods I have one soft spot and you keep hitting me. Be a halfway decent pretend-friend and stop!}

{Now why would I do that? (Your face is only remotely palatable when you are upset.) Are you going to annoy and touch and pester me to make me stop? And here I could have just kept that potion and saved myself all of this irritation. You should be grateful to your betters, you know. (Mm, she is _terribly_ homely, but then many men are not picky beyond wanting a _warm hole..._)}

{Aaaahgg!} she complained of the man who was stabbing and insulting her because she'd kept him from getting soaked. {Another topic. Any topic, you terrible, cruel, unfeeling peacock!}

{Well we could walk in some blessed silence for once. (The constant chattering might be the strongest deterrent, actually-) Ow! What- again?}

{Yes! Again! Thrice! And to the point: You stared the original conversation, so you are the one who wants to talk to me, so nyah!}

He sighed irritably and grabbed her cloak by the hem, hauling her along as they had stopped walking again. She winced, because her back still hurt. {Fine, fine. Recite the draconic alphabet to me.}

{What?!}

{The old topic bored me anyway; you are nearly desensitized to it.} Imoen gaped after him, flabbergasted. Toying with her!?

But then she lifted her brow. _I see if he'd let her die, the nasty peacock dragon may have... sort of/maybe/kind have missed his pet monkey, hmm? Watch out, I hear she flings poop when grumpy._

{Well? If you make me repeat myself, little thief...}

* * *

_How Khelben woke up to Tiamat in his bedroom was not necessarily anywhere near as important as somehow reacting to the monstrous sight of her; which was how a number of explosions ended up taking out the western wall of of Blackstaff tower on that particular summer afternoon. After his mind had cleared a little, the sound of someone laughing made the ruse clear. The illusion was very realistic, with grasping talons against his skin and jaws that whirled with magical energy, but a quick dispel finished off the terrifying sight with little fuss._

_There were only a few whelps who knew so many command words and ward locations to have gotten this far into the tower without tripping so much as a doorbell, and only one with the balls, foolishness, and sense of humor to pull it off._

_Outside of the room, barricaded in anti magic protections, all pretenses of decorum abandoned, an aasimar was still curled over laughing his sides off. He was getting much better at this sort of thing._

_"GORION!"_

* * *

_When Gorion told Khelben about the kidnappings, the archmagi paused momentarily with a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he finished ferrying their drinks to the table, and Gorion took one of the cups of roasted chicory thankfully._

_"You are telling me this was done by servants of Bhaal?"_

_Gorion nodded. "That much was clear. Their holy symbols were everywhere. Unfortunately we could not manage to question any of them. These weren't simple cultists. They had well thought out many aspects of what they were doing. They warded themselves against against compulsions and I am to understand they even went so far as to proof their bodies against necromancy so they could not be compelled to give up answers after death."_

_The Chosen considered this as he settled down to enjoy his own drink. It was early in the morning, and the majority of Gorion's party was still in bed. This was partly because Gorion liked daylight; and partly because he knew an old friend and tutor's schedule._

_"That may not have been an isolated incident," Khelben said after much thought. "I have been collecting murmurs, you might say. I am certain I am on a string of snatched children all connected by some shared fate. My problem has been that my thieves are behaving smartly. If no nobles' son goes missing, there is no real search..."_

_The aasimar perked up, unnerved. "The children we found were only a year to two old at the latest, and they were being held in cages. The Bhaalites were preparing for a sacrament of quite some severity. Khelben, if you're telling me children have been disappearing further along the Sword Coast... Well, we only just arrived in time to save those we did! Those lives may not have very long!"_

_The archmagi nodded, sipping gravely on his drink as breakfast arrived by unseen servant. "Try convincing allies with resources that a couple missing 'sewer brats' are tied up in a religious conspiracy," he muttered irritably._

_"You have resources. Is there anything I can do?" the aasimar added._

_Khelben chuckled. "You stumbled into my first real evidence since the cases started, Rion. I wasn't even specifically thinking it might be Bhaalites. You've done me a favor just by bringing this to me. If you keep your eyes and ears open, maybe you'll get that kind of a luck a second time. For now I can't give you any specific leads, but I think I might track one of my own to Loudwater for a brief stint..."_

_The aasimar blinked. "I and my party were heading in that direction ourselves. We are meeting up with Khalid and another to investigate some raids."_

_"Well, we could... Are you still traveling with... that druid woman?"_

_"Jaheira? Of course. She is a fellow Harper and she's been my friend for decades. Why?"_

_The archmagi smirked. "You know she loves you," he said bluntly._

_"Not that way. Not anymore. She is hoping to get me married off, however. And I think maybe you, too, by proxy..."_

_Khelben looked alarmed and then broke out laughing. "No! I have raised half a dozen families in my life already! We shall travel separately, incredibly separately! I have had enough of being mothered by gods, celestials, dragons, and dryads without adding a half-elf not a fraction of my age into the mix!"_

_"Alas, she does not listen to I, my friend. Would that she did... Would that any of them did... Do you think you could turn my hair back to normal, now? I am extensively apologetic for my actions this morning, and I think I have born the consequences well thus far..."_

_Khelben considered. Electric pink bouncing curls just didn't suit the aasimar; not at all. But Gorion really did deserve it; it was going to be days before the tower healed..._

* * *

{They've stopped for some reason,} the Thayvian noted.

{They could be waiting for us... No, they're gathered in a circle! I wonder what's up?} The two of them glanced at one another and then hurried forward.

The party was indeed gathered in a loose circle. Three Flaming Fist mercenaries were on the ground, apparently under the effects of a potent sleep spell. Xan was breathing heavily and looked on the verge of a panic attack for all the little they could see of his face. Aegis was confronting a newcomer in heavy chain mail, who appeared nervous under so many questioning eyes.

"Aegy!" Imoen called as they arrived. The ranger perked up and looked over as Xan whirled about to look. In general the party was immediately relieved.

"_There_ you both are," Aegis sighed. "I was getting worried!"

"You're not dead!" exclaimed a highly distraught Xan, who hugged Imoen abruptly and so tightly that she knew immediately something else must be wrong. She caught the elf in surprise and pat his back, as she was already wet and muddy. But then his fingers touched near her wound and she winced. He jerked back, looking down as rain washed red from his fingers. "You're- are you injured!?"

"We were attacked by leftover hobgoblins!" Imoen exclaimed in delight. Aegis tensed in alarm. "Pew pew! I took two arrows to the back and went down! Arg!" she pantomimed. "But then the wizard fed them a fireball, and Fwoom! Roasty toasty hobgoblin. Anyhow, I had a healing potion, so I'm good! Hee!"

"Thank you, Imoen, for that riveting look into the mind of a purple, teenage psychopath," Edwin muttered.

Aegis slapped a hand over her face and mentally put another tick mark under _Times Imoen Has Diffused an Omega Wolf of the Team_. The violet thief was starting to amass quite an impressive tally. "At... at least you're alright," the ranger sighed.

"Oi, you silly girl," Branwen chuckled, coming up to Imoen to tend to any remaining injuries. "You should have said something immediately! Are you sure you're alright? We didn't ken how far behind you'd gotten."

"No, wait, who is the new person?" Imoen protested.

"A more informative question," Edwin sighed irritably, "may be 'What was she worth opposing the area's admitted laughable law enforcement for?' (I do not really want to enter another city only to be confronted by a band of war mages ever again-)" He winced. A pink harlot had stealthily pinched him.

Aegis looked to the new woman, who was scarcely taller than Xan and whom most likely was of elfish blood. "This is... Viconia," Aegis explained. "She is a cleric of Shar, and she will be joining our party."

"Shar? But Shar's a horrible, evil, murdering, darkness goddess!" Imoen protested, as if this should be obviously a bad choice to everyone. Edwin looked at the girl irritably. Xzar cracked up laughing and bent over clutching his sides, looking as if he might fall over in the mud and roll around in it. "

The drow shifted from one foot to another. Then she responded thusly: "The Mistress of Night is a protector of secrets and a finder of unknown paths in the darkness." Her tone was quiet and neutral. "Is there a reason he howls like that?" Viconia asked of Xzar.

"Xzar?" Aegis asked. "Yes. Presumably. He's rarely in full possession of himself, however, so it might be hard to diagnose the exact reason. Ignore him for now."

"That is all very interesting," said Edwin, because it was not, "but pray tell, why was the cleric running from the Flaming Fist? As much as it would be refreshing to temper this party's childish altruism a little, we are discussing a deity whose worshipers are known for undermining authority, sabotaging ventures, and requesting frequent sacrifices. Does our party not have enough problems already?" Hearing _Edwin _point this out, of all people, was a little ironic. At their surprised looks he muttered: "I am surrounded by imbeciles and whores..." Then he grimaced; for although the party had not seen it, Imoen had pinched him again.

"She was running from them because she's a drow," Aegis answered. "And from the looks of it, that's it, actually. The Fist saw black and assumed the worst. Whether that was a smart move on their part remains to be seen..."

Edwin blinked appreciatively and took a second look over the woman. Indeed, though the rain occluded much and her hood was low, it seemed her skin about her mouth was black. Remembering a detail of conversations past, he looked to Imoen and prepared for her to unleash an unnecessarily chipper onslaught. He hoped it would amuse him.

"Let us take the benefit of the doubt," Dynaheir suggested. Though the others were still reeling from a recent betrayal, the Wychlaran sensed some strange kinship with the helpless cleric. "If her mind were knit to her heritage, then she would not be here. If distrusting her is a matter of her patron, then I remind there art more than one way to worship any god; especially one as old and vast as Darkness herself. To think of deities as caricatures to be painted black or white is useless; even when considering their clerics."

"You're a drow?" Imoen exclaimed before Xan could say anything to that. The thief hopped forward, leaning dramatically to the side and looking up under Viconia's hood from a near forty-five degree angle.

"Yes..." Viconia said, taking a step backwards uncertainly.

The violet girl grinned brightly. "_Dos orn inbal ulu sjaad'ur ussta phla'ta ul'trin, 'zil Edwin orn'la skrel ol!_"

A pause. "_Dos ph'telanthaad l'ooble'd'ussta lodias?!_" the dark-skinned woman exclaimed. Then she laughed, and laughed hard, and some of the fear and uncertainty slipped out of her voice. "I... I have been on the surface long, and not yet had such an ugly surprise as my people's worse pronounced on a rivvan's lips. Quite a... ehm... _exuberant_ little bat you are." Viconia may have been more patronizing or insulting at another time, if she had been surrounded by allies instead of strangers. But then again, it had been a very long time since Viconia had been surrounded by friends. As it was, she sounded almost relieved.

"Oh I am _incredibly _annoying," Imoen agreed. "Just ask Edwin, or 'Sir,' as we simians like to call him." A strangled sound of irritation came from behind her to agree with this claim.

Out of everyone present, only one individual was not gradually calming down. Branwen had been trying to follow the conversation, but her gaze repeatedly dropped to Xan, whose face had gone through at least seven or eight highly exaggerated different emotional expressions. Now he was writhing and worming in his own skin, his shoulders bowed and his head lowered. He was staring at Viconia with a _thousand_ different feelings in his head, she knew. Some of them might have even been pity and compassion, actually.

"She... is... _drow!_" he hissed to himself, looking dismayed at his companions, amazed that this detail was not more important to them. If Jaheira and Khalid had been there, no doubt it still would have been! "She... is...!" Branwen had heard that anxious, strangled spiral of tones once before, but Xan had been tipsy at the time and now he was sober. Alarmed, she finally determined that she _had_ to do something, or their enchanter might accidentally... erm, what could Xan accidentally do? Fry their brains, perhaps, Branwen didn't know! More importantly, he might accidentally fry his own.

Branwen grabbed the elf by the shoulders and deliberately spun him around. He flinched and twitched and tried to look over his shoulder at the meeting, but Branwen gave the frail man by the back of the neck and steered his head to face her. "Deep breaths."

Xan gaped at her a moment, and then sputtered out a half-laugh, half-sob, and shakily lifted his arms to his face. "_Seldarine_," he protested.

"Come on, elf, deep breaths," Branwen insisted, taking his arm and tugging him away from the group. Once sufficient distance away- the heavy rain helped- she looked worriedly back at him.

* * *

"Xan? Xan, your cracks are showing."

The frail elf laughed at that, a pathetic sound he choked on, and which he followed up with a whimper.

"What's wrong?" Branwen asked. "I mean, I don't know much; except drow and elves are mortal enemies, is that so?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Drow are... they are..." He took a long breath. "Once long ago in antiquity, they were elves. They fell in a cosmic war between good and evil, between mortal elves, and between gods in the pantheon. They lost. They fell into the earth, to darkness... Branwen, drow are _evil_."

"Xan, I've seen a lot of clans killing other clans in me life. And looking at you, you aren't showing upset at the sight of your mortal enemy. That's a lot louder, and goes with waving a weapon up in the air shouting for blood. You are shaking like... well like you do with orcs..." she suggested with a tender note in her voice.

He acknowledged it with a shudder, and he was so pathetic that Branwen simply had to hug him. He recoiled from her, however, lifting cyan eyes to her face in distress. She paused. "I... I... She's.. I saw..."

"You read her mind," Branwen realized, her countenance going stormy. "And something you saw there, some memory that flit through while she was standing scared of us... Something awful happened _to_ her. If it were the converse, you'd have called her out right there you would have." He shuddered. "But you _read her mind_. Xan... I _told _you-!"

"She could have been an assassin!" he hissed. "I protected Aegis with my craft as Xzar protected her with his!"

"A person's thoughts are sacred!" Branwen shouted angrily. "It is naught but the role of a cruel trickster to play with them such!"

"Sacred!? As are their flesh, their bones, their blood and bile! As are their souls, their life forces, their- their- their honor..." His eyes were wide and got a far away look as he trembled and stared at nothing. Then his gaze darted back to her and he grit his teeth. "I am an _enchanter_!" he told her with sudden fierceness. "My magic _is_ the magic of the mind! As Xzar's magic walks the boundary of death! Do you-" he grimaced at something only he could see or envision, "-do you even know what _ghastly_ weaving goes on in those skull traps of his!?"

Branwen was still glaring at him.

He slowly shrunk from her, his fingers resting on the hilt of his moonblade. Then he clutched the hilt tightly, and from it he seemed to draw some strength. "I... am an... _enchanter_," he breathed with weak resignation, with fear, pain, and certainty. "I manipulate thoughts. That is what I _do_, Branwen. It is what I have thrown my _soul_ into for almost a c-century." He closed his eyes and breathed in painfully, straightening himself somewhat. "Enchantment is what I have studied; what I have lain awake at night thinking about; what I have pursued for hundreds of thousands of my living hours... And if you cannot even _tolerate_ that... then you will find little cause to enjoy my company from here on out."

The war cleric was quiet for a time; watching how strong he tried to stand and how his arms trembled with his courage. Then he twitched, and he must have heard something she could not because he twisted slightly to half-glance behind him. An expression of fear and dismay twisted down the corners of his mouth.

Branwen approached him slowly, hesitantly, not sure how she felt about this sudden challenge to her beliefs. His gaze darted back to her eyes, and he stared her down as she approached. As she came close to his personal space he stood straighter, lifting his chin and clenching his teeth behind thin lips. He was defying her, in a way. Or defying his psychological weakness, and refusing to let it take his magic from him.

_Is your mind reading spell still active? _she wondered with some bitterness. _Are you directing it on me?_

He didn't react to her, so at least he'd given her that courtesy. Whatever the group was saying, however was wearing at him fast, and the muscles in his cheek were twitching.

Branwen took in a long, slow breath. She lifted her hands, but did not rest them on his shoulders or arms. Instead she lifted them to the sides of his face. His brows furrowed over piercing cyan eyes for a moment. Then he took in a sharp breath as she cupped each ear, depressing the tragus over the ear canal and cutting out sound. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes searching her face as if he could find answers there.

Then his gaze sunk unseeingly, dropping slowly all the way to the earth. He lowered his head and his eyelids relaxed. His brow furrowed again, and then moments later he lifted his hands to her and, surprisingly, pressed her palms firmly, desperately, to each side of his head; as if her touch could keep out more than just errant physical sounds.

Branwen nodded to herself, stepping closer to him and maintaining the pressure against his ears. She held him fast. "You are going to be okay, Xan," she told him in a voice just loud enough to him to still hear. "You just need it to be quiet for a bit. Within and without. Go someplace deep and silent, and come back when you're ready. I'll still be here. And if we have to move, I'll wake ye or carry you."

His fingers curled needling against the backs of her hands, and then the enchanter was gone, lost in a trance of his own making and muttering soundlessly under his breath.

* * *

All male wizards are mad!

That's why Dynaheir's less interesting...


	4. Companions

Look! A whole chapter devoted to those critters which we always forget about when actually playing DND! Companions! Animal, Familiar, and otherwise!

* * *

Companions

* * *

"I can't believe you actually successfully communicated to another living person in drow," Aegis laughed. "I always told you that would never, ever, ever come in handy..."

"You were wrong!" Imoen cooed.

"I am always for helping!" Minsc beamed. "Let us bring the dark lady with us and let her prove herself! Then we will quickly know her goodness level!"

Aegis looked to the side as Xzar finally got hold of hysterical cackling and rubbed up against her again. Imoen rolled her eyes at the sight of them. Aegis smirked. "What would you say Viconia's _evilness_ level is?" she asked in a whisper.

He rubbed his chin. "Hummm. Now? What system are we using? Western or eastern measurements? I'd say two or three kickapuppies. No more than four, I'm sure of it."

Imoen's eyes widened. Then she snickered and covered her face. "Kickapuppies?" Aegis kissed the necromancer's brow, earning her a pleased coo.

"I don't mean to prod," Edwin sighed, "but this sleep spell is not going to hold forever, no matter how distraught our hysterical enchanter was while casting it. Where did...?"

"We're here," Xan called, rejoining the group with Branwen in tow. His voice was level and calm, and the sharp transition surprised a number of the party members. "And I would like to speak up. If you have a whit of respect for tens of thousands of years of history, Aegis, please do not ignore that you are asking a drow to travel with us. With me."

"I have no quarrel with you, surface elf," Viconia answered him slowly. "I have no quarrel with anyone. Just a very deep and penetrating desire to obtain warm food... and perhaps take a bath."

Xan did not respond hotly or refute her claim; he nodded politely to her and turned his gaze back to Aegis. "I do not mean to say that we _ought_ to leave her, because clearly if we do she is doomed; Her current situation is indicative of the troubles she has been through. But, as she is a drow, if we take her with us we are most likely also doomed."

Dynaheir shook her head. "Ignoring her predicament doesn't stop her from existing. Her alternatives are to die, join up with foul high priests who care not the means to their ends, or else attempt to throw her lot in with bandits. What would thou practically recommend to a woman who has had such difficulties in being treated as a normal person?"

"She is not a normal person," Xan responded.

"Well," Dynaheir answered crossly, "she is asking to be treated like one."

The enchanter thought about this rebuttal. He looked back to Aegis. "We are also in a considerable amount of trouble without hiding a drow under the Fist's nose."

"Of all the things a dubious individual could ask of me, the ability to sit in a tavern and eat hot soup is not going to be the deal breaker for me," Aegis confessed. "Can you cast some kind of disguise spell on her?"

The elf sighed. "I can," he admitted. "Furthermore, she will likely blend in simply by keeping her head down. A lone traveler looks suspicious, but one more hood will hardly stand out in a party of hooded individuals. Is the will of the party?"

Edwin shrugged. "I think she is a nuisance, but as we are already recruiting I suppose a cleric whose head isn't filled with war gods or sunshine will still be a nice break from you simpletons. Her condition and the extensive benefits she receives from traveling with a party in good legal standing should outweigh any immediate incentive for her to double-cross us. (That-)" He saw Imoen move and he paused abruptly. Then he took in a slow breath and said in a full voice: "That... _said_... I recommend we keep an _eye_ on her."

Imoen grinned and Xan bleakly. "Then I will acquiesce," he told them. "Onward, to futility."

* * *

The weather was so terrible that day, that by the time they made camp, the ground was saturated in water. There were few to no locations available to camp in, and there was extensive flooding in all directions. They either need to find or erect shelter for that evening, and their options seemed wet and mushy no matter what they decided.

Yet as the sunlight began to wane, Aegis suddenly diverted them off the main road. A short distance away, they came upon the wreckage of a caravan comprised of three covered wagons. A short distance away were a few graves; someone had already come to investigate and done all they could for the fallen. Surveying the wreckage, Aegis thought that the wagon bodies themselves were relatively unharmed except for the wheels on one side; and though the canvas had been torn, it was still largely intact.

Minsc looked to her inquisitively. "Aegis is thinking we can use as shelter, yes?" he asked, and she nodded. "Need to drain out some water and throw our camping canvas over the tops," the ranger thought aloud. "Clever, clever! I think Dynaheir can help. Do we start now?"

"Branwen! Garrick, Imoen! Help us get the wagons cleared!" Aegis called.

Edwin huffed. "I suppose this might work. How the devil did you even find them?" he querried, impressed but a little suspicious as to how Aegis had known the caravan would be there.

"Urso scouted it," Aegis explained, as the raccoon in question scrambled up to her shoulder. She dug in one of her pouches and then gave him a peanut. Xzar shrunk back from the creature.

"I see," Edwin said slowly. "So... you talk to your... what is it now... your miniature giant space raccoon?"

"Of course not," Aegis laughed. "I talk to my absolutely and entirely normal raccoon."

"You talk to a raccoon," Edwin repeated."

"I am a _ranger_, Edwin. A bonafide ranger. Talking to animals is frequently just something _we_ can do. Now I might not be able to turn into a bear or tell plants to root you in place, but if you think all I can do is hit things with axes and find north, you've got another thing coming..."

"It's true!" Imoen agreed. Edwin didn't look convinced. "Though it takes her a bit to learn an animal. She used to talk to her cats!"

"Ha!" Minsc beamed. "Cats are fine. And though few companions have the wisdom of Boo, the ring-tailed masked one is _incredibly clever_! Sometimes I think he is sneakier than Imoen, even. True!"

"Wait..." Edwin drawled slowly. "You can not only each 'talk' to your animals... but also to eachother's animals?" The Thayvian grinned slowly. "So you _could_ tell Minsc the truth about his, eh, rodent?"

Dynaheir's eyes widened. "Dare thou not! Silence, Red Wizard, lest I silence thee!"

"Not here, dear, it is _much_ too wet for my comfort," the Thayvian reassured her. "But do not worry, I shall rise to that bait at any time drier than now."

"Tell him what?" Aegis asked.

"Why, that his mouse is not a miniature giant something-or-another," Edwin replied.

"Odesseiron!"

Aegis blinked at the two wizards for a moment, one sly, the other upset. Then the ranger woman laughed abruptly.

"According to Boo, he _is_ a miniature giant space hamster. Bred, born, and raised by gnomes."

The entire party, sans Viconia and Minsc, suddenly turned to stare at her. There was a long moment of silence. Xzar gaped. Xan blinked curiously. Aegis raised a brow.

"What?" Dynaheir asked flatly, because Edwin had apparently been stunned to silence.

"Boo," Aegis repeated. "Although one supposes the little guy could be lying or delusional, I don't believe I've met many other normal animals who can count past three, much less understand full Common speech. So I'm inclined to believe that he is indeed no ordinary hamster. What? Why are you all starting at me?"

"Who or what is a hamster? Or Boo?" Viconia asked.

"Boo is Boo!" Minsc exclaimed. "And he is very wise! He has advised me that although the strange dark woman may be slightly prickly, he believes she will be a great asset to fighting the bad guys!" He smiled brightly. "Oh! I shall introduce you properly when we are dry... It would not do for him to catch a cold in this weather..."

"Why is everyone still staring?" Aegis asked in confusion.

"Um," Imoen fidgeted, "we all just sort of assumed Minsc was a little crazy on account of the head wound he mentioned."

"Well, he is. Oh! I see. You've all assumed Boo is an, ahem, voice in his head? Well no. I mean, I'm not sure I would call Boo a _masterful intellect_, here, but given that Minsc is a little fragmented on his best day, I think having the hamster to bounce his thoughts off of helps him keep things straight."

"... I must take a few moments of silence to contemplate this and reevaluate my world view of the possible," the Thayvian decided slowly. "And appreciate the incomprehensible capacity of fools to cause such unfathomable situations as these."

"Yes," Dynaheir muttered in a daze, and neither wizard managed to catch or rebuke this tiny instant of camraderie they had accidentaly stumbled into as a result of this apparently earth-shattering relevation.

"Okay, well, while you're doing that, come on everyone! Help me get these wagons cleared for occupation. I want them lain down on logs or the remains of the wheels, with the tent canvas up and the water drained out. If we're lucky, we'll sleep dry tonight!"

* * *

"Hey, Xan, I have a question."

The enchanter glanced over unemotionally as Imoen helped to tie down the canvas. The enchanter was working on drying out the bottom of the wagon with a basic heat spell. Imoen had lifted a brow. Xan had come back a little strange after his discussion with Branwen. He'd gone off nearly hysterical and come back nearly lobotomized. Fortunately this seemed to leave him calm and stable; but she wondered if he might snap later on from the internal strain. Hopefully Branwen would be able to take good care of him!

"Well, this is what I wanted to ask:" Imoen continued, "Do you have a familiar?"

"No," Xan answered. "I am bonded to my Moonblade as a wizard on top of the normal blood bond. A wizard suffers if their familiar dies or a bonded object is destroyed; and loses the benefits it conveys to them if they are parted by distance. However, as you may know, I will perish if I and my Moonblade are parted by too great a distance. Therefore, augmenting the blade and using it as my 'familiar' has few to no consequences."

"Oh! Oh, that's clever," Imoen agreed. She blinked as Xzar walked past her, carrying what looked to be a lung and looking incredibly dirty. He paused, looked from her to the lung, and then gave a big smile and put his arm behind his back.

"Yes?" the necromancer asked. "Can I help you?"

"Do you have a familiar?" Imoen asked curiously.

Xzar paused, blinking at the question. A horrified expression dawned over his face. "Oh I don't want to talk about that," he said very quietly, and then he turned and hurried off. He needed to find him an Aegis; although he was sure it would involve her convincing him to give up his lung.

Imoen lifted a brow. "Okay... I'm just going to assume he had one, but it died. Which is sad, I guess." She looked at Dynaheir. "Hey! Dynaheir! Do _you_ have a familiar?"

"I would appreciate not to speak on this subject," Dynaheir explained, "given that either a familiar or a bonded object can be a vulnerability in a wizard's armor, and Edwin is within hearing distance."

"It's a hawk," the Thayvian muttered irritably where he was reading his spellbook. "And it follows us from above most days."

Dynaheir tensed.

"It is like she thinks I am inept, impotent, or stupid," he muttered, and Imoen was too far away to pinch him. The wizards had split into two groups to dry two of the caravan wagons; Edwin had taken one of them and Xan and Dynaheir had taken the other. Edwin had finished the task within minutes, and then had shown little to no interest in helping Xan or Dynaheir. He reclined lazily in the opening of the wagon, studying his spells and insulting them.

"Well, what about you, Edwin?" Imoen asked. "Do you have a familiar?"

"Yes."

"Well... What is it?"

"Not some fragile little 'chink' in my armor, that is for sure. Xan's route is clever, but he will still _die_ painfully if ever separated from his Moonblade for unrelated reasons, and obviously that is not ideal. I hardly need a familiar present at all times, and I am loathed to be inconvenienced by the possibility of it dying."

"You are bonded to a creature of the outer planes, then," Dynaheir said in disapproval. "And judging by your disposition, it is not angelic."

Edwin laughed, as if she were cute.

"So if it dies, you just have to re-summon it," Imoen realized. "And if you don't need it, you can un-summon it. Though wouldn't that make the bond weaker, because it wasn't born from your blood like a normal familiar?"

"A slave can be a useful tool in its own right, if handled wisely," Edwin smirked. "It is wise not to have such glaring weaknesses as mortal hawks who can be sniped out of the air with a simple well-placed acid arrow."

"Is it an imp?" Imoen guessed, mostly to get Edwin off of bothering a now highly upset Dynaheir.

"No. You have already met it. Or don't you remember?"

Imoen considered. Then her eyes widened. "Oh no. Really? Eww! But- but- but-! Oh come on, couldn't you have picked something cool like a lizard, or interesting like a bug, or fluffy like a kitten?"

Edwin muttered. Imoen tensed in alarm. Then there was a rush of tiny wings. Imoen shrieked, releasing her part of the canvas and tensing up as Xan rushed to cover for her. He found her on her knees, swarmed in fiendish bats.

"Edwin! EDWIN! BATS!" Imoen squealed in protest.

"Leeches," the Thayvian muttered. "Mosquitoes, cockroaches, silverfish..."

"BATS!" the violet girl wailed as tiny claws mussed her hair and grabbed and plucked at her clothing, and wings battered all around her. Xan sighed. Then he turned around, lifted up a hand, and muttered. The ties on Edwin's canvas closes to the caster suddenly unraveled, and a gust of water blew straight into Edwin, who hissed in protest and retreated further into the caravan.

Xan smirked. He turned back to Imoen and began waving bats off of her. It was clever, he supposed, to summon one's familiar as part of a flock of similar creatures; it certainly made it even harder to pick out and target, and it might have been ideal for delivering touch spells.

* * *

_Khelben's tip came short of nightfall, and seeing that half of his party had been injured in the bandit scuffle earlier that day, Gorion was reluctant to let them know. Khalid was sitting quietly as Jaheira set his broken arm, and to be honest the aasimar had to wonder how she did not see the shy yearning on her patient's face. That Khalid loved Jaheira had been obvious to anyone with eyes for well over fifteen years. _

_There was never a point where Gorion wanted to say something to her more than when Jaheira was teasing him about marriage. But he'd made the 'mistake' of talking to Khalid about the infatuation first, and the shy half-elf warrior had managed to swear the mage to secrecy. Gorion had been reluctant to take the oath, but he'd expected everything to come to light eventually._

_Fifteen years later, and Gorion was considering warning newcomers to the group _not_ to talk to Khalid before they brought the issue up with Jaheira..._

_Alas. But Jaheira was not a woman for reading __subtleties... __Or, thought Gorion, perhaps she knew but did not wish to confront the issue. _

_But to Khelben. He had issued Gorion a sending, asking him to check (discretely and carefully) in on a location not a mile to the west. The venture called for stealth, and without a party dungeoneer at the moment (their dwarven rogue was visiting with family for an ancestor's name day celebration, bless him) that left Gorion alone as the only party member qualified to investigate something 'discretely.'_

_So of course, being the entirely wise and levelheaded party leader and wizard that he was, he was very careful to make sure Jaheira had no idea he was slipping out of the camp an hour after sundown._

_After all, there could have been children in danger! And it wasn't like he was entirely alone. He had Chai._

* * *

_"Is he gone, do you think?" Khalid asked._

_"Most likely. We'll give him an hour before following," Jaheira answered. _

_Ribald looked at them in surprise. "How did you know? How do you always know?"_

_"Those thrice-damned drow gloves. He only takes them out when he's going to go out on his own, and I watched him slipping them on just an hour ago," Jaheira answered._

_"Drow... gloves...?" Ribald asked, looking to their cleric to see if she knew what they were talking about. The halfling woman giggled. _

_"It's a long story. Yes, drow gloves. Spun of spider's silk, with spider legs for the fingers. They're the most macabre things..."_

_"Well what do they do?" Ribald asked._

_"They give the ability to cast webs and charm spiders; but he keeps them for the Spider Climb enchantment_."

_The fighter frowned. "And him equipping them is some kind of 'signal' or something that he's going to head out alone? Why would any wizard care to have a permanent Spider Climb enchantment, much less consider it a vital tool for going on solo adventures?"_

_Khalid smiled. "Do you think invisibility spells are a little frightening?" the half-elf asked._

_"Sure."_

* * *

_Wrapped in invisibility, Gorion carefully adjusted his cloak of non-detection. He had no idea what awaited him, but a sixth sense from his thrice-damned grandmother told him that Khelben's tip might yet bear fruit. The trouble of the matter was that he couldn't sense exactly where he ought to be. Although he had a detect magic spell active, he could not perceive any abnormalities. If there were some form of illusion hiding him from the truth, it was a good one. And if it were no illusion, he lacked the senses to pick out mundane concealment. _

_He was going to need a second pair of eyes. He was lucky he had one._

_"Chai, are you awake?" He reached up into his hood_

_He felt a yawn at the edge of his consciousness. -Is it time to poop yet?-_

_Gorion chuckled, his fingers coming into contact with the tinny bundle of warmth nestled up about the back of his neck. "Chai, up. I need your help."_

_The little body wormed around and then came awake with a curious start. Moments later, the sugar glider had dashed out along his arm and hopped from his elbow to the top of his walking staff. -Adventure! Mystery! Where were the bad guys? Rawr!-_

_The mage smile. "We are looking for their super, secret hide out, Chai. Can you help me?"_

_The sugar glider looked around and then leaped downward, spreading out its little limbs to coast to the ground. Then it rapidly bounded around, sniffing the air and the ground and occasionally getting distracted by a flower. Gorion waited patiently, following after the little familiar whenever she went too far from him. Around fifteen minutes later she suddenly stood straight up with her little tail sticking out like a pointer dog's. Then she dashed forward, and disappeared through a rock. _

_Gorion blinked. Quickly he followed after his minute companion. Within initially appeared to be naught but a single-chambered cavern, but the stench of darkness was fouler down here. Following after his stealthy monster, he slipped around the center of the cavern. She led him to an equally well-hidden illusion around a small toadstool-rimmed pool. As they went, Gorion renewed his invisibility, and a number of his protections; then they were inside. _

_It was a shrine. There was an atrium, a central hall of worship, and living quarters to the side. It was sparsely decorated, though it clearly had been hewn from the rock by a mage or cleric of great skill. Of these attributes he was forced to take no further notice, because he could hear chanting from within the central hall. Pushing forward to investigate, he strained to catch their words._

_"Lord of Murder! We know your will as you have spoken it to us with every beat of our hearts! You have come into this world a thousand times over; you have ensured your legacy, your power, will live on in the loins of a thousand mortals!"_

_Gorion's eyes widened. What? _

_Ahead of him, at the far end of the temple, he perceived a massive summoning circle surrounded by three clerics. The woman in the center was utterly nude, standing over a bloody corpse with a dripping dagger of bone clutched in her hand. Slipping closer, he glanced rapidly at the runes to find they had been drawn with an incredibly expert hand. He was not looking at a child's flighty whimsy!_

_"We beseech you lord! Rely not on these unfaithful women you have taken, these fools and children who have no proper fear of your name! I am your priestess! I beg you, Lord of Death, send forth but a shade of your will, and permit me to carry a fragment of your legacy to fruition! I, I who understand, fear, and worship your name! I will make a killer to end all killers from your blood!"_

_Gorion did not need to hear anymore. A shape was forming slowly in the center of the circle, and whether it was an avatar of Bhaal or one of his servants was hardly the point. _

_"I am defenseless before you, my Lord!"_

_She was; and the explosive ice ball that rocketed into her back proved it. Shards burst outwards through her abdomen and splintered out like shrapnel into the two remaining priests. She dropped with a gasp of surprised, sprawling over the body of her victim as the two remaining clerics spun about to face him. Gorion ducked behind a pillar as one cleric charged towards him, calling out to his god for the power to Slay the Living, while the other began casting a dispel magic._

_Making rapid use of his glorious spider climbing, Gorion quietly climbed up the pillar as the cleric charged, letting his invisibility do all the extra work of concealing him. -I need to get to that summoning circle and diffuse it,- Gorion thought in one instant, and then, -Chai, stand ready!- The sugar glider waited on his elbow, a lime-green coating visible around her body. _

_The Slay Living Bhaalite rounded the pillow, his dagger held high and his other hand grasping. He looked around as the __Dispel Magic struck, but no wizard appeared. "He's not here!" the man cried in surprise and alarm. He held the Slay Living spell at ready while his companion rapidly attempted a divination to ascertain the wizard's location. _

_High above the cultist, Gorion smirked. His invisibility had been stripped from him, along with the majority of his protections. His items, however, were unaffected._

_Chai giggled mentally and then leaped from her perch. She sail gracefully down in the shadow of the pillar, and landed gracefully on the cleric's head with her little front paws outstretched. A shock of green energy spiraled down the man's body, and he gasped out suddenly before going rigid with paralysis. _

_Gorion began chanting as the remaining cleric looked frantically around, she had cast her divination, but with his nondetection cloak he was invisible to her. "COME OUT AND FACE ME!" she shrieked indignantly. The summoning circle was growing incredibly dark behind her, a large shadow of black energy pulling up from the floor and forming into a sort of arch. _

_Gorion tucked up his feet and placed them against the wall. He leand over around the pillar, held out a hand, and pointed it straight at the confused priest. He said the final word. Instead of lightning, a gigantic spear of ice burst forward from his fingers. It stabbed with tremendous speed from one side of the room to the other, impaling her through the chest. She hung there for a moment, mouth open wide. A second later, the spear crackled apart into a burst of snow flakes. She dropped to her knees. _

_Done. He slid down to the ground, grabbed the paralyzed cultist's dagger from his outstretched hand, and quickly slit the man's throat with it. Then he dropped the profane weapon and ran up to the ritual at the front of the temple. Although the clerics were dead, the formulating arch was only growing larger. Blue eyes flit over the rune circle, looking for its weak points so he could destroy it and banish its contents back to the abyss. There! He stepped out onto the circle, seeing the runes he needed clustered around the rapidly opening archway. _

_The final cleric, he realized, was not yet dead. __She lifted her head, blood dripping down her chin and stomach, and then she laughed. "You don't want to do that," she told him. Gorion knelt, rapidly erasing sigils._

_"Our Lord answers us. The circle is for our protection... for the times in which he answers with laughter and demons."_

_Gorion paused. Did he have enough time to examine this spellcraft, to see if she was telling the truth? What if the summoning magic was disconnected from the containment sigils? What if, instead of disrupting the door, he released the contents? _

_Then suddenly a magical darkness burst over them. He could see nothing at all. Chai cried out in surprise. The cleric screamed and he heard the sound of liquid hitting the ground. Gorion pushed back from where he'd been kneeling in surprise. Just as suddenly as it had come, the darkness faded. _

_A figure was hovering in front of the portal; a figure unlike what either Gorion or the clerics had been expecting. It had neither the shape of a man, as the high priestess had hoped; nor the shape of a demon, as she had halfway expected. Standing there, in all his incredibly dark glory, was a entity Gorion had only ever heard described in tales._

_He was tall; twelve feet in height, and he did not touch the ground. His feet were crossed loosely beneath him. __ Long tendrils of cloth and dark energy flowed out from his immense and hooded cloak, tying him back to the portal from whence he had come. His arms were spread out slightly, the palms facing out in a mockery of all that was holy and peaceful. An enormous scythe dripped gently from the fingertips of his left hand, as if weightless. His body was that of a massive humanoid, an ebony skeleton with a thin layer of flesh over every bone. He was entirely devoid of hair, fat, or organs; and his only muscles formed where his arms and legs joined his body. He had pectoral muscles, shoulders, and bicep muscles, as well as a defined illiac crest, and both the sartorius and gluteus muscles of the leg. ____He had eleven fingers and far too many ribs. His face was a fanged skull, and his eyes glowed a brilliant gold._

_______The Slayer. The Reaper of Souls. Avatar of Bhaal._

_______Gorion gaped in horror as the god-thing stared into his soul. Slowly, the Slayer descended those few inches to the ground. Slowly, he stepped forward. The mage couldn't move._

_______Run!- Chai begged him, leaping up in front of him. -Run!- She pawed at his face and then darted down and bit him soundly on the leg. That got his attention. He twisted to his feet, bolting with a sudden desperate need for survival, running for his very life. -Run! Run!-_

_______The remaining cleric had somehow been decapitated, and her blood had flown out in an arc far too wide to be physically possible. Behind him, he did not hear the god-thing move, but he felt it. He ducked as the scythe went flying over his head, and might have blessed his grandmother for a thousand years of well-bred heavenly instincts if he had been given much time to think at all._

_Then a swift skeletal hand reached out, snatching at the air._

_A crushing sensation hit Gorion, staggering him with a wave of vertigo. Then pain. Soul-biting pain. He screamed out, crumbling to his knees and slowly looking behind him. The Slayer was upon him, standing inches away, his off hand lifted into the air with something small and limp clutched between the clawed fingertips. Gorion's eyes widened in horror._

_Chai. _

_The aasimar cried out a desperate, pleading, disbelieving sound, and then- with tears in his eyes- he spun back towards the summoning circle's boundaries and scrambled forward. The scythe which came down on his back pinned him to the earth like a bug; but he was already in such a state of suffering that he barely felt it._

_Chai!_

_He couldn't move forward like this. He could barely see for the tears. His fingers slipped down the front of his robes, feeling the hot red blood. The moments passed in silence. Red flowed across his vision. He thought at first he had bled into his own eyes; then he realized blood from elsewhere was pouring across the ground and covering it in a thin veneer of crimson. Movement_

_The scythe shifted in him and then was suddenly wrenched outward. He cried out brokenly and then shuddered when a spell levitated him off the ground. It pulled him back from the border of the summoning circle- he had been but inches away!- and floated him slowly back towards the center. He saw the edge of his divine captor, though his senses were failing him from blood loss and the spiritual trauma of losing a fragment of his own living self. Chai..._

_The Slayer gestured with one, long finger, and the levitation spell rolled him upright so he was facing the ceiling. His hair and hood spilled back from his face. In a dismal but lucid corner of his mind, he grimly noted that this was the end. He was going to die, and by an avatar of a god, no less. He hoped his celestial blood would buy no terrible fate for lost children; but at least he knew he would become no ghoul or wraith which Jaheira would then need to slay._

_The ebon-skinned skull regarded him, the mouth locked in a permanent grimace of smiling teeth. Then, with a silent aloofness to the action, the god-thing lifted up one bone hand and passed it over the mage's body. Gorion's eyes widened as he felt his wounds sealing up and his blood seeping back into his veins, and he choked out a sputtered cry of confusion and disorientation. Why!? Why heal him!? In the lucid corner of the mind, he reasoned deity might want to torture him first, and a sob wracked his body. He was delirious. He reached out towards the avatar, grabbing helplessly for his dead familiar._

_Remarkably, The Slayer leaned over and gently deposited the tiny creature in his hands. Beyond reasoning, Gorion clutched Chai to his breast, sobbing into her tiny body. The Slayer watched him almost curiously, as if intrigued by the consequences of death. His skeletal fingers twitched as if going through a sleight of hand. A thread of white appeared snatched between thumb and forefinger. The aasimar froze, staring up at the soul of his dead familiar._

* * *

Author's note: In Baldur's Gate, the game frequently uses the word 'Slayer' to refer to a shape/avatar/form of Bhaal which is actually referred to in the literature as the 'Ravager.' The 'Slayer' is described as being a gaunt and skeletal humanoid, and I decided to envision this as the Grim Reaper essentially.

I will be using the 'Ravager' to describe the entity seen in the Baldur's gate games which is a bunch of spikes and mauling awesomeness. 'Slayer' I reserve for the grim reaper.


	5. Safer with Friends

More FFFFs! Viconia introduces herself and gets better acquainted with the party.

* * *

Safer with Friends

* * *

_"Khelben!"_

_"By Mystra's Grace and against all the Lords of Hell!" the archmagi muttered in alarm, striding forward._

_Supported between Khalid and Jaheira, Gorion was scarcely recognizable. His robes had been torn to tatters and bloodied beyond recognition. He had refused to give his companions both of his arms for support, but instead clutched one tight to his collar beneath his lowered face. Jaheira was supporting him on that side as best she could. _

_"What happened!?"_

_"Idiot!" Jaheira accused Khelben. "Fool! His remaining wounds do not seal and his flesh is drained of life; his pulse flutters like a bird! Help first; seek answers later!"_

_The archmagi glanced at the demanding woman as he hurried up and put his hand to Gorion's brow. Ice blue eyes lifted hazily to him. "Get him inside the tavern. Aliana, fetch the high priest. Rion? Can you hear us?" He __quickly cast a levitation spell on the monk to make him easier to move. _

___The aasimar shivered and then managed a slow, painful nod._

___"You are stupid, Rion," Khelben told him. "But you are in good hands and with friends."_

* * *

They had gotten the two best wagons lain out flat on the ground with broken wheel parts beneath them to keep them off the ground. After tying their camping canvases over the torn wagon coverings , they pushed the carts together into a double-chambered lodge of sorts. The remaining wagon had been too damaged and they had too little canvas to keep it dry. Instead, they had propped it up on its side as a lean-to in order to buffer out the sharp press of the mouth of the 'lodge'. Their canvas, the broken wagon covering, and their other resources had been enough to erect a roof stretching out from the tilted wagon and the dry lodge, which gave the group a sizable, semi-dry area, and perhaps a place to build a camp fire.

They had managed to make themselves a haven for the evening, and that for certain was a team building exercise; Umberlee or some other deity was clearly throwing a fit at someone, and the road had become a dismal moor for the evening. Their caravan was perched on some of the driest land available, and the earth was still positively mushy.

"Do any of my four, spectacular wizards have an illusion up their sleeves that will help hide a campfire glow?" Aegis asked, wringing out her cloak and then hanging it up against the wagon. She came over to the center of their mushy clearing and tossed down a fragment of wagon wheel upon which she settled down to fiddle with tinder.

"Working on it," Xan answered quietly, paging through his spellbook. "Some of us are less lazy than others." He glanced up at Branwen as she entered. "Have they set the rest of the wards?"

"Aye, they're almost done," The cleric agreed. "How are you?" Xan shrugged to indicate he'd make due for the evening at least.

Edwin (whom Xan had most likely been referencing with that 'lazy' barb) had not left his wagon from the moment he'd first dried it. He had hung up his new cloak, left his boots by the door, and had shown no interest at all in further helping anyone prepare their camp. When Aegis called out for campfire provisions, however, he took interest in the damp kindling she'd managed to gather. "That will smoke, fool," he told her. "Give a log to me." Aegis was only too happy to pass the Thayvian one; It was good to know that base comforts could drive Edwin to minor acts of helpfulness.

"Ah, can't believe it's really dry in there," Branwen said enthusiastically, going up to peer in the wagons as the rest of their party began to slip into the rain-free safety of their new campfire den. "This was a good idea. Big enough, I hope."

"Take your cloak and boots off if you are going to enter, barbarian," Edwin sniffed disdainfully, because this wagon was most certainly his wagon.

"We've warded!" Xzar proclaimed gaily, as he and Dynaheir hung up their cloaks and the necromancer brushed debris off of himself. "If you hear all the spirits of the hells shrieking out in tortured unison, it means I've killed something more interesting than all the wildlife in a thirty meter spread this time!"

"This time?" Aegis asked.

"We are lucky we do not have a druid at the moment," Dynaheir agreed with a quirked brow. "He 'accidentally' triggered one prematurely when he saw something move."

"I'm sorry, but do you have infravision? No? No, I think not. Neither do I," The necromancer pouted.

"Who, aside from myself and apparently now Branwen, has paid thought to the clustered nature our sleeping arrangements must take?" Xan asked, before closing his spellbook and starting to weave an illusion. Xzar watched with a certain amount of fascination; though illusion was forbidden to him he could not deny it an elegance.

"We're going to have to snuggle up cozy t'night!" Imoen agreed with a laugh, then winced as she felt wings fluttering under her hair and she was forced to remember the presence of the tiny creature. Deep breath. Deep breaths. "And Aegis and Minsc are going to have to kick up their feet or something!"

"But we'll be warm and dry," Dynaheir smiled. "Which with all the heavens pouring down upon us is a miracle in and of itself.

Edwin grimaced. "I shall most certainly refrain from 'snuggling' any of _you_ insipid_ fools_."

"Great!" Aegis exclaimed. "That should leave plenty of room for my legs! Sorry if it's a little wet and mushy out here, though."

The Red Wizard glared at her, but did not stop drying logs. He knew a joke from a threat by now; the gorilla was always very _clear_ when she was threatening. Aegis took each piece of tinder as he finished, adding them to the fire so that they could heat up some food for themselves and dry off a little. The party gathered round, lumping their cloaks together to dry and using various objects such as broken wheel parts for seating.

* * *

Viconia alone stood back, watching the others hesitantly. The madman was already brewing tea at Aegis' elbow. Imoen was whining, begging, and cajoling a cleaning cantrip from her arrogant red-garbed wizard and, from the resigned and irritated look on the mage's face, she was near to succeeding. Her winning argument was most likely that cleaning her things would keep her from smelling like street mud and mildew all night, coupled with a promise to stop annoying him.

These people- her party, now?- were relaxing with big, heavy sighs. They looked about themselves and tried to understand how best to enjoy their relative dryness. The elf, Xan, had gone back to studying. He was a delicate and emaciated thing; all flesh and bones and little meat. Nearby, the Wychlaran woman ('Dynaheir,' Viconia had heard her called) seemed also to be using the dryness to read. Her enormous ranger companion, Minsc, was busy communicating with a small orange rodent, whom Viconia realized was most likely this 'Boo' the party had fussed so much about.

The bard had pulled out his lute and was tuning it, and the cleric of Tempus had settled down beside Xan and began rummaging in her pack for food.

After a long moment of observation, Viconia unclasped her cloak and turned to hang up the garment. As she approached the fire, many of her new acquaintances looked up in interest and curiosity. Even with the elf wizard's gaze firmly affixed to his spellbook, Viconia was surprised to find no one looked at her with expressions of hatred or disgust. The bard's slack-jawed gape was somewhat familiar, as she was used to provoking acts of lasciviousness when there was insufficient hate for violence; but the way he quickly vacated his seat and offered it to her was new.

What a stupid, if thankfully polite, male. She hoped he wouldn't be foolish enough to press his interest. After a moment's hesitation, however, Viconia gratefully accepted the seat. Her legs were killing her, and starting her morning by running miles through heavy rain in chain mail hadn't done her any favors.

"Hey! She's pretty!" Imoen giggled, holding up her newly cleaned cloak for examination. There was a bat on her head, which was making her wince at times, but she tried hard not to notice it. "Edwin! Don't you think she's pretty?" She elbowed the mage. The quiet, incoherent noise she received in exchange made her glance backwards to see the Thayvian watching Viconia. He still had the hood of his robes to keep him looking intimidating, and the expression on his face was akin to how a lynx might watch a tasty rabbit. Curiously. Hungrily. Imoen blinked and then broke into snickers.

"Well, it's good to finally look a new friend in the eyes," Aegis acknowledged, standing up from their successful fire and dusting off her hands. Viconia nodded to her, understanding her to be the nexus of the party, the leader, the Matron.

"You are not bothered by my... complexion?" Viconia asked her, because the relatively warm reception was by far unusual in her experience.

"I have bigger problems to worry about than what color the gods decided to paint you," Aegis told her. "Let me introduce myself, explain the quest we're on, and lay down my rules. Fair?" Viconia nodded. "Alright. I'm Aegis of Candlekeep. This is my 'little sister,' Imoen. Our personal problems are that we can't go home, my father has been murdered by a giant armored knight, and for some reason no one understands there are assassins after me. We have friends who are off investigating why. However, right now I lead this adventuring group, and together we are investigating the iron crisis."

"You are clearly doing well by yourself," Viconia realized slowly. "You are the ones who cleared the mines in Nashkel, aren't you?" She had no attachment to the word 'father' and a warped understanding of 'mother,' but the way Aegis spoke 'sister and 'father' suggested the sentiments between them had run strong and loyal.

Aegis nodded slightly. "We found some documents in Nashkel, and right now we are tracking down a bandit leader named Tazok. We're going to try and find one of his contacts in Beregost and learn what we can. If you come with us, best you know all that you're in for. We need another healer, and anyone who can hoist a shield as well is welcome."

Viconia was quiet for a moment. "I can offer both," she said at last. "My full name is Viconia DeVir, of house DeVir of the city of _Menzoberranzan._ And while I do not want to go into details, suffice to say, I left my home as an exile. I abandoned Lolth for the Darkness. In the end, I came to the surface as a matter of survival; I know well what it feels like to be hunted."

Xan lifted his eyes from his spellbook, quietly scrutinizing her.

"Unfortunately," the dark elf continued, "there are few a lone drow can call ally, in the Underdark or anywhere else. Though persecution from rivvan is always a threat, I have endured much longer than I would have under the earth. I have been traveling north out of Amn; but keeping _alive_ is currently my forefront priority."

"As long as you keep out of trouble, we can help you," Aegis told her. It may have been unnecessary or even demeaning to warn many of her other party members such, but given Viconia's situation, Aegis realized she ought to be explicit about death-dealing from the start: "This party has a lot of different and often conflicting goals. That said, while we're working together, we do not bring harm to one another or innocent people. Even imbeciles. You noticed we let the enforcers live..."

Viconia hesitated. "They may return and recognize you. If we are going to Beregost..."

"Thank the gods we were all heavily cloaked, there are four inns in Beregost, and the amount of people traveling through on a well-established trade route is always fairly large," Aegis mitigated. "But if something does happen in Beregost, we're not going to dump you to save our skins, to be clear. As long as you aren't running around committing any actual crimes, we'll figure out some means of dealing with the Fist's overactive imagination. You'll be as safe with us as you can be in Beregost."

"That is a lot of trouble to go to for a stranger of dubious origins," Viconia noted warily.

"We need another cleric and you need a party; sounds like a match made in heaven. Anyway, I've done _way_ stupider things," Aegis. "The crazy person on my left is Xzar. He is a necromancer, a Zhent, homicidal, and insane. I also trust him more than anyone here but Imoen. Rescuing a lady with black skin and no criminal record wasn't that complicated a decision for me. But..." She tilted her head to the side and repeated her clarification: "I tolerate no infighting. Bare steel against anyone, and I will bare steel against you. That includes members of the party who are less than saints themselves, and have a tendency to use strong, provocative language."

"And in a situation that calls for self defense...?" the drow inquired.

"Try not to kill anyone," Aegis advised. "That tends to be the point my understanding nature gives up on people."

"Which I still don't understand that at all," Xzar sighed, offering her a cup of tea. "Here you go, Eegee. Peppermint. With extra arsenic." Aegis glanced at him. "Well? Drink up!"

Aegis looked back to Viconia and then, to make a point, very deliberately sipped her tea.

"Was... that his idea of a joke...?" the dark elf asked slowly; and clearly the same question was on almost everyone else's mind as well.

"No. But now I would bet good money I'm in the process of developing an immunity to arsenic..." Aegis observed her teacup thoughtfully. She wondered if the arsenic comment was Xzar's way of warning off Viconia, whose people were reputed to be skilled with poisons. She also wondered what the hell else Xzar routinely slipped into her tea...

Edwin shook his head in disbelief, enjoying his spellbook now that the tinder was dry. "Why you would voluntarily imbibe anything prepared by such a dangerously oafish moron whose tastes in spellwork run deathly and whose compatriots have attempted to kill you... I should think to go out of my way to somehow end up responsible for 'saving' Dynaheir if the aftermath's to be this easy..."

"Strong kidneys," Xzar praised her adoringly and stuck his tongue out at the Thayvian. "Stronger liver! Hee! Who else wants tea?"

Aegis tensed. "Wait, did you-?"

"No, no, silly Eegee, only _your_ tea. I'm not keeping notes on anyone else's body mass but the elf's and, well... Let's just say that _if_ we wanted to poison him, I might be able to pull it off by spitting in the cup before hand..."

"Your attention is, as ever, heartwarming, Xzar," the elf murmured, and then much to Viconia's surprise he accepted a cup of tea the madman handed him with both familiarity and a lack of trepidation.

Imoen, while trying to ignore the infernal bat (pun intended) that was now hanging painfully from the back of her hair, had noticed that Edwin was still staring at Viconia, and that his expression was curious, delighted, and darkly excited. Amused by him, Imoen nudged the wizard in a companionably fashion and jerked her chin at Viconia. {Go on!} she mouthed to him. Edwin scowled at her.

Viconia looked hesitantly from Aegis to Xan, and in part addressed both of them when she next spoke. After all, if Xan could tolerate a necromancer, there was some hope he could tolerate her as well, was there not? "Your... your acceptance of my presence is unfamiliar but revitalizing," she phrased tactfully. "For this chance at proving myself, you have my thanks..."

"I do not _accept_ you drow," Xan answered. "I suffer you because I defer to Aegis' admittedly barbaric, foolish, and chronically inexplicable leadership." He blew on his tea. "After all, without _that_, I would either be dead or still locked up in that _dreadful_ cell at this moment."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, enchanter. That illusion you cast; are we concealed?"

"For all the good it will do us," Xan agreed, "we are." He looked directly at Viconia. "But I ask you reconsider her, Aegis; this woman will be no asset to our party. Especially not when her role is to provide for the injured."

"Viconia, dark flower, ignore the elf," Edwin answered languidly. "It is not his fault if he is too blind to see your ample assets... Both of them."

Viconia lifted a brow. A couple people looked at him in dismay, but then Edwin's wenching comment had been heard by just about everyone down in the water cave, and his mutterings on underclothing had already earned the injured wizard a slap he'd been unable to take retribution on. Imoen's eyes widened in surprised amusement. Then the dark elf answered: "Rivvil, I have not seen enough of you to return the sentiment. Though I feel compelled to warn you any staring may lead to a _second_ instance of blindness..."

"Ah, you wound me; And here I thought merely to complement your convictions and... _flexibility_..."

Dynaheir reached over and gently touched Viconia's shoulder to rescue her from this conversation, and though the dark elf shied momentarily from the contact she steadied herself a moment later and looked to the woman. Each perceived a strange form of solidarity with the other, though neither could have given a reason for such sentiments. "If there is trouble in Beregost, we will stand by thine side," the Wychlaran reassured. "For as long as thou are a member of the party, we protect our own. Despite what disguises we may help thee with, try not to go anywhere alone; lest thee end up in a situation where we cannot vouch for thine character."

"Though I think you will find some chaperons' attention to be more... friendly... than others," Edwin offered with a curious tilt of his head and a predatory expression in his eyes.

"I shall remember to make a point of not bothering the enchanter," Viconia responded dryly, irritated less by the lecherous attention than by the presumption of superiority, the arrogance, she felt coming from the Thayvian. It was almost immediately apparent that the Red Wizard was a haughty creature. While it may have been some fun to break him eventually, she was disinterested in gratifying such a transparent male in the meanwhile.

"Boo says: Hello!" Minsc proclaimed, and quite suddenly there was a hamster for Viconia to meet. She might have been more caustic about the sudden rodent-oriented invasion of her personal space if she were not currently in such a submissive stance. As it was, she tried to be relatively neutral, if not friendly.

Imoen had cracked up into snickers she _hoped_ were only really loud enough for Edwin to hear. The Thayvian eyed her darkly. {So...} Imoen cackled. {We... we really need to work on your pickup lines...} Then she yelped and Aegis glanced over to make sure she was okay when a bat clambered up to peer her in the face. The ranger blinked at the odd creature, but said nothing. She_ did_ take note that Imoen and Edwin seemed to be communicating more and more exclusively in a different language, and she wondered if she ought to be concerned.

{Quiet waif,} Edwin chuckled, {I have plenty of time before we get to an inn. (Though a charm spell might help convince faster- Ngh!)} He grimaced. {That is nearly the twentieth time today,} he said almost worriedly, rubbing his side where Imoen had pinched him. Aegis finally noticed Imoen was jabbing or pinching him each time he started muttering.{Do I really...?}

{Yes,} Imoen answered, grimacing at the creature clambering half over her face. {Today, at least. Edwin! Bat!}

{... Though it pains me to say so, little waif, you are permitted to continue with these aggravating jabs of yours...}

{Edwin, nothing gives me more pleasure in the world than a license to pinch you for being you. Except strawberry shortcake with whipped cream, or rainbow unicorns. Edwin. Baattttt... Edwwinnnnn...}

A corner of The Red Wizard's mouth quirked. {I shall endeavor to beat out the unicorns, but as for your fascination with cakes... well... That is a level of pleasure I am sure borders on the sinful.}

{Baaaattt!}

{As for your quip about 'pickup lines,' which is not a valid Mulhorandi expression by the way, well, I am more patient than _that_...}

Imoen stuck her tongue out at him, grimaced at the bat, and then pouted at the unfeeling smirk the wizard gave her.

* * *

Aegis had taken over the task of carefully heating whatever packed food the party wanted warmed up. The bard was again tuning up his lute. Edwin watched Viconia for awhile, amused when she became thoroughly annoyed with (but reigned herself in for) Minsc. Then the Red Wizard cast his gaze over the entire group, before temporarily eyeing Xan. _He_ was going to be trouble. Dynaheir had dulled the edge of her own threat to him by confusing herself with sentiments of comradeship or loyalty.

Xan, on the other hand, appeared to be the type of creature who could justify any action for the sake of a mission or group cohesion. Enchanters were a perverse breed of wizard, without the raw power to stand up in a fight, but with an unnatural coating of ethereal slime and a laughable morality that left them feeling entitled to manipulate minds and twist actions behind the scenes. Not that Edwin could refute the value of a well-placed _Domination_, but a true-blooded enchanter was, in his mind, a form of eel. Their ilk did not win fights; rather, they sought to control whole systems.

Edwin didn't trust the elf wizard, especially now that She-Tempus had coaxed him into a calm state. There were too many slithering thoughts within the enchanter's head, and too many justifications and laughable moral pretenses. Of everyone present, Edwin thought, it was Xan who was most likely to take action against him now. The enchanter would find it easy enough to surreptitiously field charms his allies would never have outwardly agreed to; and Edwin had no intention of waking up _geased _or even in some other, minor condition.

The Red Wizard could, of course, have confronted the enchanter, spoken to Aegis, or heavily warded himself in paranoia at the end of each day; but there were better and easier ways to hold the group in stalemate.

It had not escaped the Red Wizard's notice, for instance, that Xan had greeted Imoen's safe return with an embrace. For an elf of his delicate condition, that sort of gesture demonstrated quite a surprising level of trust. Which meant Imoen remained the perfect tool and ideal pawn for keeping the party in check. She was connected to almost everyone by no more than a single degree of separation.

Besides, this gave him an excuse to start a new project.

{Whatcha' thinking about?}

He sighed. {Please do not try to convert your normal, inane vocal expressions into Mulhorandi, however much you might be attached to them. Without them, you are a pain on the ears; with them, you are completely unintelligible.}

Imoen giggled as she folded up her cloak and set it neatly aside. Then she accepted a heated sandwich from Aegis. {Dynaheir says my pronunciation is improving rapidly!}

{The witch is a non-native speaker, and a fool.} Imoen rolled her eyes but said nothing, enjoying her sandwich with a contented sigh of relaxation. She wondered how many kickapuppies Edwin rated on Xzar's evilometer. Malometer? Diablometer? _Probably not as many as Edwin might wish, hehe!_

From where he reclined in the wagon opening, Edwin glanced down at the violet girl. Imoen had seated herself directly on the stoop beside him, so she could beg and wheedle for a cleaning cantrip. She remained in the seat she had originally chosen, and her proximity to him was a useful visual tool for suggesting that she preferred his company to others'. Whether that was _true_ or not was immaterial, as long as he could draw attention to it. He knew well enough that he was the only member of the group without allies or connections to other party member. His vulnerability did not currently afford him that luxury.

Edwin waved for his familiar to give her some breathing room; she'd tolerated it well enough thus far. {Buoyant One, I want you to do something for me, though I know I cannot expect you to use much decorum...}

{The bat! _Thank_ you. Yeesh! Hnh. Okay. Wait a moment... Just a moment... ... ...Alright, I've recuperated from the batness. What do you want, then? I am attentive.} she asked, finishing up her meal and dusting off crumbs.

{Here,} he lowered an arm to her. {Read in this. Openly, in front of everyone.}

Imoen turned to look at him to see what he meant. Then, to her horror and delight, she realized he was handing her his _spellbook_. {What?!} she exclaimed in a whisper, looking up into his face. {Why? How-!? Who are you, and what have you done with Edwin!?} she demanded.

His mouth quirked. {Don't be stupid, girl. Think. I want the other wizards to _see_ you doing it, and I want all the foolish and stupid ideas it will cause to blossom in their minds. Let them suppose you and I are 'friends;' That I cannot easily be bothered or dispensed with without fracturing the group. Read in it. ...On the condition you divulge information on it to _no one_.}

Imoen blinked at him with disbelief for a moment. Then the thief took the spellbook with an almost religious fervor. Best not to convince him Dynaheir would behave, not if it meant him being so open with her! {Yessir, peacock, sir!} Imoen whispered excitedly, lifting up her knees to use as a lectern as she settled the spellbook down and reverently turned the cover to open it. {Monkey is reading! Oo-oo ah-ah!}

Edwin lifted a brow at her and then leaned back comfortably to rest. {Do remember the pages of concern in your enthusiasm. As amusing it would be to watch you take out half the camp, I am a little too close for my own comfort.}

{Careful monkey is careful!} she promised, ignoring Dynaheir's stunned surprise when the Wychlaran finally noticed her. Edwin Odesseiron was still under a deal to answer any question she could come up with about magic, and the silly peacock had just given her his spellbook. Either he was the stupidest genius she'd ever met (well, that was probably true), or Edwin was indirectly reneging on his promise to never tutor her in magic. She was going to gobble that opportunity up one way or another. **  
**

* * *

_Khelben frowned. "He's been cursed," the archmagi was sure. "But by no ordinary magic..."_

_They were waiting for the high cleric but, as they did so, Jaheira stripped Gorion of his tattered robes, cutting them off of him when he refused to move one of his arms. His skin was gray with pallor, and covered in bruises and thick claw wounds as if he had been mauled by a gigantic animal. Many of these injuries looked as if they had not only been mended by Jaheira, but perhaps also mended midway through the mauling process._

_The aasimar was unnaturally chilled, and so Khelben quickly provided a small magical fire that emitted both heat and a slow flow of positive energy. It had an immediate effect on the other party members (who were scraped and battered themselves), but little to none on the injured wizard._

_"Jaheira," Khelben had finally grasped the root of his concern. He stepped forward, worriedly touching his dazed friend's arm. "Where is his possum?"_

_"His what now?" Ribald asked._

_"His familiar," Khelben answered. "Rion? Show me... come now, show me... show me what you're holding... please."_

_"Wait. He has a wizard familiar?" the Amnian asked. "An animal? Since _when_?"_

_Khalid took this as a cue that he should escort Ribald out of the room and down to get a beer. There was little enough the two could do for their friend at this point in time, as he was only skilled with sword and shield, and Ribald had but added talents with tracking and long bows. Ribald protested that he needed to know more about this 'familiar' on the way down, and Khalid explained that many wizards tended to be secretive about delicate familiars. Domesticated sugar gliders, furthermore, had a penchant for spending the majority of all daylight hours asleep inside their owners' clothing..._

_"Gorion," Khelben pleaded. Though all the rest of him was weak and helpless, Gorion was keeping a dead man's grasp on whatever he had concealed against his collar. The aasimar was barely conscious but, at Khelben's continued coaxing, he slowly and unevenly loosened his grasp. The archmagi carefully pulled up the other mage's hand, revealing the edge of Chai's tiny form. He pressed his knuckles gently into her, and determined that although she was cold, she was most certainly alive. _

_Thank Mystra, the archmagi thought. As a creature of life force and magic, he suspected he would be able to read their malady more clearly from her body than from Gorion. "I have her, Rion," he both promised and assured. "I have her. Let me see if I can mend her for you..."_

_The aasimar shuddered, squirming a little. The beads of liquid that came to the corners of his eyes were enough evidence that Chai had been in grave danger at some point, and Khelben did not put the other wizard beyond having endangered himself for the little creature. One supposed it was any mage's right to do so. _

_It took another minute of coaxing, but Khelben got Gorion to relinquish his little treasure. The archmagi picked her up carefully in the palm of both hands, murmuring the words for spells of divination and protection and then blowing gently over her. He frowned and then scowled in horror when he realized he was staring down at a curse of incredible proportions. What had Gorion run into? He swore at himself and at the aasimar for both being such fools._

_"I need room to work," the archmagi muttered, bending over to slip the sugar glider gently back into Gorion's hold. The aasimar clutched her back to his collar immediately. Then the archmagi stepped backwards and conjured up a pouch of enchanted chalks. He lifted a hand, and with a gesture he caused the sickbed to float slightly off the ground and slide over until it rested at the center of the room. The mage overturned his bundle of chalks, and the little cylinders danced around as if controlled by a dozen arms. As Khelben lifted a hand to his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose, no doubt visualizing some form of magical circle or protection, the chalks spread out and set rapidly to work and etched magic across the full breadth of the floor. _

_"Gorion..." Jaheira murmured thickly, realizing the overwhelming severity of her friend's condition. "What madness did you stumble into...?"_

* * *

Viconia's character is sort of interesting. She gets along with almost no other characters, good or evil, flings barbs at everyone in a scathing and slightly deranged manner, and yet clearly wants to be trusted and belong. We could blame Shar and say Viconia frequently does a 'poor me poor me' routine to gather sympathy, but her backstory/epilogues are filled with instances of her trying to coexist peacefully with someone and also grief. I think Haer'Dalis sees through her the clearest in realizing she's a conflicted, exaggerated, frustrated mess. (I think it's funny when she banters about how phenomenal she is in bed and how her pleasures are beyond Haer'Dalis's ability to imagine, and in turn he says his head is going to implode. I imagine Haer'Dalis has a much, much, much bigger imagination than Viconia by an extensive long shot XD)


	6. Prize

Aegis had retrieved her half-full small keg of wine from Nashkel on their return to the inn, along with a number of other supplies such as camping gear. She had it at present, and after formally welcoming Viconia to the group, she brought it out and poured some of the vintage for anyone who wanted it. Edwin was a little miffed about her giving out the wine he'd so carefully helped pick, but as he had not paid a gold piece for it he held his peace. Everyone accepted the gift, even Xan and Viconia. It helped to take the edge off of peoples' nerves, and for that the ranger was glad.

A short while later, Aegis left to take care of 'business' outside. On the way back she took a good look at their camp from the outside, just to make sure it really was dark and nearly imperceptible. She didn't expect many creatures to be slinking around in such ridiculously heavy rainfall, but then the band _had_ just been assaulted by hobgoblins. She was careful not to walk near any of her allies' wards.

However, when she returned, she found there to be a bit of a commotion between just about every party member. She wagered Edwin had somehow started it with a quip at Viconia, but whatever the case there were definitely a few irritated persons and a few flustered ones.

"What managed to go wrong in the two minutes I went out to relieve myself?" Aegis sighed.

"They're discussing sleeping arrangements," Imoen informed her, not taking her eyes off the book she was reading.

"All I said was that while snuggling was an absolute no, I might be persuaded to, ehm, _spoon_ with one someone," the Red Wizard was grinning.

"Your charm is growing thin, rivvil," Viconia muttered at Edwin. "When I want a man for his services, I shall acquire one at my own leisure."

"Well then, by all means, curl up with the elf; he seems to enjoy strong women," the Thayvian laughed.

"Leave me out of this discussion!" the enchanter exclaimed, nearly falling backwards out of his seat; and it seemed his Branwen-inspired stability had been threatened by this latest suggestion.

"Och, shut the hells up Thayvian," Branwen retorted angrilly, "before I come over there and smack you upside the head. With a malus. And by 'smack' I mean cave yer skull in."

"And here I was simply making friendly suggestions!" the Red Wizard sighed as if woefully misunderstood.

"Sweet lord Oghma give me my father's patience," Aegis muttered. Then she lifted her voice. "Edwin, unless you want your bedmates to be Minsc and Branwen..."

He raised his hands in innocent surrender, smirking to himself. The others seemed to want to continue arguing, so Aegis got in the center of all of them.

"Unless all four wizards want to get tossed in the back, Xan and Edwin want to try their luck sleeping with Xzar, and Dynaheir wants to snuggle a Thayvian, everyone shush up!" That got their attention. Specifically, Xzar gaped at her like he'd rather cut his own throat than come within a meter of Edwin Odesseiron or the Wychlaran. "Imoen, as the most observant and least biased party members, I hereby put you and Garrick in charge of sleeping arrangements. Whatever you decide is law."

The violet girl perked up in surprise. "Hokay!" she exclaimed, closing the red wizard's spellbook. It disappeared mysteriously on her person, with skill only a true-blooded master of the thieving art could muster. "Garrick, do you have paper?" The bard did, and he came over to sit beside her and hand her a piece of parchment and a charcoal stick. The two of them began scribbling away conspiratorially. For two people who were not at all in love, they certainly made an excellent team of hoods.

"I sincerely doubt this is so complicated as to require diagrams," Edwin noted, though the bard and thief leaned over their work to shut him out.

"This requires some process of elimination," Garrick decided. "Dynaheir should not be near Edwin, nor should Xan be sleeping in the same wagon as Viconia, but that leaves some questions."

"Yes, we want Xan to tell us who he's okay with sleeping beside," Imoen agreed, "given that we honestly have no idea, and it seems to be concerning him more than anyone else."

Xan hesitated and looked to Branwen, who nodded. He blushed slightly. "I would like to be up against a wall," he said quietly, "and I would endure fine alongside Dynaheir, yourself, or Branwen, I think."

Xzar gasped audibly and then looked as if he felt incredibly unappreciated. Aegis laughed at his expression and came up, ruffling his hair. "You're already stuck with me, Fool. And you're an obsessive cuddler on top of it." He hummed in acknowledgement of this wisdom, tilting into her touch.

"Then that leaves only one other person to be concerned about," Imoen asked, twisting in her seat. "Edwin, who would you survive sleeping beside?"

The Thayvian sighed at the indignity of having to pick at all, but then smiled. "Well..."

"Not on your life, male," Viconia answered, looking back at him from where she'd been peering curiously at Xan and Xzar each. "Unless it is, for some bizarre reason, required of me by our leader."

"I was not about to suggest that," Edwin answered. "Really, you have just met me, do you think me so one-dimensional? Be at ease, dark flower, you have made your insecure sentiments quite clear. In fact I think our two organizers should do you the courtesy of ensuring that you and I are not in the same wagon, just to put your mind at ease. Now, Dynaheir, I don't think I would 'mind' you; as you do resemble this one slave I had when-" The Rashemi woman recoiled in horror and Minsc looked up from Boo.

"WHAT!?"

"No? Tch, you all are all _incredibly grateful _for my spell casting mastery, I see," the Thayvian chuckled, and Dynaheir had to restrain Minsc from lunging across the campfire.

Aegis not-so-subtly stepped between the two men and eyed Edwin. The Red Wizard was clearly in good humor, and it appeared he was merely joking. He did not seem to mean any real harm. Perhaps Dynaheir sensed this. Viconia had leaned back into a less defensive position, and it seemed the situation wasn't primed to escalate into a fight. Though his humor was certainly less than pleasant, Aegis had been half expecting Edwin to insist on a three foot gap, a curtain, or something else equally ridiculous; and to threaten to attack anyone who forced him to make physical contact with another person. By contrast, this was a little more malleable.

"Well it seems I have no friends at all," the Thayvian pouted jovially. "It seems I shall have to await my unfortunate sentencing and be glad I'm not sleeping in an inch of water. Is that not right, valiant leader?"

Aegis lifted a brow. She ransacked her mental notes, and then arrived back at the carnival memory that Edwin was considerably better-humored when under the influence of high-quality wine. Instead of answering, she shook her head, procured another cup, filled it to the brim with wine, and then offered it to him. He took it, lifted it in a mute toast of thanks and then sipped on it contently. If wizard and Candlekeep girl could agree on anything, it was the value of a good, bitter red.

"Okay!" Imoen announced. "Garrick, please read the sleeping arrangement, if you will, dear bard!"

The bard cleared his throat. "Ah yes. In the first wagon: Edwin, ourselves, Branwen, and Xan. Then in the second wagon: Xzar, Aegis, Viconia, Dynaheir, and Minsc."

"You've put the drow right next to our party leader?" Edwin laughed. "Bold of you to trust a stranger after what happened the evening before last."

"Well the only other configuration we liked split a couplet or two and you ended up sandwiched between Branwen or Aegis, so..." Garrick grinned.

Edwin grimaced as if in pain. "Didn't this twittering song-boy recently whore himself out on a one night stand to the woman he'll be sleeping beside, or is that set to become more of a permanent thing?"

Garrick flinched, the color draining from his face. And Aegis twitched. Imoen rolled her eyes and gently pat the bard on the arm to reassure him.

{And was he not recently 'mistaken' for a deviant by an imbecile with ankheg armor, hmm,} the Thayvian muttered to himself. Imoen laughed, leaning back and tugging on the Red Wizard's sleeve.

{Garrick is not bunking next to you, you cranky dragon, I am. And I promise to leave an inch of space, so there! Now stop talking before you send someone into a fit.}

Edwin looked at her in surprise. {Very well,} he decided with a shrug. {Do try to resist any inexplicable urges to tackle me and shriek about cakes and shopping.}

Imoen gave him a thumbs up and then winked at her sister, who wasn't certain whether to be reassured or not.

* * *

Edwin had been one of the first to go to bed, in part so that he could stretch his injured arm and exercise his fingers in peace. Xan eventually set his own spellbook down, crossed his legs, and perched that way for awhile with his eyes closed, clearly meditating. Branwen made sure he was alright and then whittled away the hours discussing battles past and the best way to polish a shield. Aegis and Xzar played a word game together, which was reasonably new for them. They had realized they had little else to talk about which didn't border on revealing her divine heritage to the whole group, but neither was yet tired enough to go to sleep.

Viconia and Dynaheir was uncertain of what topic might unite them, but they spent some time hazarding their way through lighter fare. That the two women immediately liked one another was clear, and neither seemed to feel threatened in the other's presence. Perhaps there was some sisterly understanding between them stemming from the fact that each came from a powerful tradition of magically inclined female rulers. Dynaheir was the one Viconia asked for a breakdown of the social structure of the group, the relationships, and the recent history.

One by one, however, the group members trailed off to bed, each doing their best to make themselves comfortable with so many other bodies nearby. Aegis sent Xzar to bed before her as she stooped to extinguish their fire. Xan, who aside from her and Imoen was the only one still awake, reacted to the diminished blaze and opened his eyes. He looked around quietly for a moment, and by the expression on his face he was once again calm and slightly pensive.

Imoen glanced up and smiled at him. "How ya feelin'?" she asked.

He inclined his head to mutely acknowledge that he was much better. Then, with a glance at the infernal bat that was still splayed with its wings unfolded over Imoen's head, he tilted his head inquisitively to the side. Imoen rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Edwin hates me," she laughed. _  
_

"What else happened this morning? Aside from getting shot at by hobgoblins," Aegis asked. "You two dropped back behind the group for the better part of the hour, and when you came back his thundercloud had clearly broken."

Imoen thought of the hobgoblins and the potion Edwin had momentarily dangled over her head. Something bigger and more complicated than either logical gambles or petty irritation had been on his mind. In context with the rest of the day, nearly killing her made even less sense. It was as if some insanely twisted thought process had built up to but then disengaged at that moment. Hmm. Well, she wasn't about to let either Aegis or Xan in to her cranky friend's genuine thought processes.

"Well, I nearly died! Hehe. But Edwin's my friend and I needed to talk to him about some things, that's all," Imoen answered with a grin and looked back the book she was reading.

"You've only been acquainted with him a few scant weeks," Aegis hesitated, because some of the things she'd seen and which Xan mentioned had set her to uncertainty. "How well do you really know him?"

"I probably know him better than his own mother," Imoen retorted. "That cave in that freaked you all out? Ha. You know nothing, fools! I was underground with the concussed Red Wizard. The dragon has amazing focus and willpower when under pressure, but he was breathing a little too much fire to have gotten himself through that alone." She turned a page. "Edwin hasn't a nice bone in his body, but I _am_ his friend. So can we stop talking about him behind his back?"

"Well, then, I've been meaning to ask," the ranger shifted the subject. "Why is there a bat on your head?" She reached out to try and touch he animal, but surprisingly it reared up and bared its teeth at her. She realized it had a crown of four, curling horns, and large red talons. Its chest fur stood erect with barbed quills.

"It's Edwin's familiar," Imoen moped in such a suddenly dramatic state of melancholy that Aegis looked at Xan to make sure he wasn't off riding unicorns and eating doughnuts. "He is trying to desensitize me. Woo."

"The wizard trusts you with his familiar?" Aegis asked in surprise.

"What could I possibly do to it?" Imoen chuckled. "Spell a protection circle on it and torture it until he gives me a king's ransom of... candy?"

"Imoen," Xan sighed, "permit me to be more clear, and brutal for the moment. You just recently lost someone bad-tempered and mean-spirited whom you nevertheless felt a great deal of affection for. We are attempting to ascertain whether or not you are looking for comfort by replacing him with someone equally bad-tempered and mean-spirited."

Imoen looked at both of them like they each had three heads. "You're comparing...!? Your imaginations have amazed and horrified me in this moment," She answered with a far-off look of dismay. "Hold on. I'm trying to get to the same place you're at... Edwin... attempting to be someone's equal and opposite partner... Maybe... maybe if we _cloned_ him and put the girdle on the... clone...? And had Xan erase her memory of ever being male...?"

Aegis glanced at Xan in surprise and then looked to Imoen with a grin. "Well when you put it _that_ way, I'm sorry for even asking," she laughed. "About... about Montaron... I wasn't going to- to _kill_ him when you were right outside the door. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you meant _something_ to each other. Something more than just the physical."

Imoen looked up at her sister in surprise. Then she felt old tears at the corners of her eyes and she took in a long, slow breath. "I don't want to talk about this Aegis. Maybe in a few weeks." She smiled weekly. "Go snuggle a necromancer. I'm _not_ jealous."

* * *

{Edwin. I can't sleep.}

Imoen was shaking his shoulder. {What? Unh. Until this moment, you were the only one.}

{Edwin, your bat is on my face. Licking me.}

The conjurer opened an eye lazily and smirked at her. He was sleeping with his back to the wall, and there was a decent amount of space between them. {Ignore it. And do please stop touching me before I become disagreeable.}

{Get the bat off of me. I'm fed up and can't sleep,} she grumbled, deciding to pass him his spellbook before she forgot about it or was tempted to hold it for ransom. {It's so- ew, _Edwin, _it is crawling around and fussing constantly.}

He took the tome. {It is just an animal. A somewhat malicious animal. Get over it. Besides, he likes you. Well, your _terror_, to be exact...}

{Unsummon him!}

{Go to sleep,} he said, closing his eyes and shifting to get comfortable.

{By Oghma's gigantic ass, Edwin, unsummon your familiar before I am overcome by the urge to stab it to death!}

{But this is terribly amusing to me,} he joked sleepily.

Imoen glared at him and then looked up at the bat and blew on it, trying to get it to take off. It was unaffected and went back to preening itself. {Edwin, do you think you're the only one who can play this game? Being unnerving?} she asked in annoyance.

The conjurer signed and rolled to face towards the wagon. She glared at his back.

{I can do way worse than you! I'm warning you! Only one warning! I will humiliate you!}

He didn't answer. Imoen put her finger in her mouth to wet it, and Edwin's only warning that an attack was incoming was the squeak of a surprised familiar. Time for some harmless retribution!

* * *

The alarmed shout woke up both caravans resulted in Garrick getting squished by two lunging/falling persons. There was a woosh of light and fire and then suddenly stillness. Branwen cursed, sitting half up and looking blearily up at what had happened.

"What in the names of the Dead Three just happened?" Xzar asked first, peering sleepily through the space between the two wagons (he had been closest). Then he saw Edwin was up on his knees and looked slight-confused. He had a _Burning Hands_ spell activated and had been on the verge of grappling a surprised Imoen. Xan had a hand outstretched and was looking perplexed at the Thayvian; apparently he had charmed the man reflexively on waking. Imoen was giggling almost hysterically. Garrick, who had her on top of him, was blushing like a tomato.

Looking at all of them, but mostly at Edwin, Xzar's mouth curled in an amused smirk. "Oh bothered you, did she?" the Zhent asked lazily, propping his cheek on his wrist. At another time, someone might have noticed Xzar's voice was operating at a completely different pitch and quality than was normal.

"I deserved it!" Imoen cackled, holding his bat from gnawing her face off as it fluttered and flapped its wings. "I deserved it! I deserved it, I'm sorry, Edwin! Xan, let him go!"

"Let 'im go? He nearly burned th' wagon down!" Branwen complained. "We were sleepin' here!"

"Is anyone dead?" Aegis asked groggily.

Edwin scowled and waved away his spell. "No," he answered. "Someone will be if the damn elf can't keep his spells to himself, though. Praytell, Enchanter, what am I currently under the effects of?"

"_Calm Emotions_," Xan sighed, rubbing his face.

"_Mergikh busaj la züadkhigomn_, _Byatskhan Moaratuk_," the necromancer purred, settling back down atop his lover's back and kissing the back of her hair. "No murders tonight."

"Mnh, good, they're forgiven," Aegis responded tiredly, reaching up to hug Xzar's elbow to her shoulder. _"Muurnakh viatukhbö khonjtura,"_ she mumbled and he smiled contently.

"That was not an attack?" a very much awake Viconia asked a sleepy Dynaheir.

"More likely it was the Thayvian and the thief bickering like children," the Wychlaran mumbled. Minsc was still sleeping; his heroic action detector was unaffected by screams of evil.

Viconia glanced to Aegis and then lifted a brow. "Is the male truly sleeping on _top_ of you?"

"Necroblanket. Space-saver," Aegis mumbled into her pillow. Xzar winked at the drow before curling up a bit to sleep.

Edwin sneered at all of them, though he couldn't really muster the will to be genuinely upset or angry under the effects of the Enchanter's charm. He glared at Xan and Imoen out of an intellectual disgruntlement, however, before standing up and leaving the lodge.

He spent some time outside, contemplating the rain and his various options, and waiting for the damn charm to wear off. The party settled back down behind and was asleep again within minutes. Fortunately, Imoen was wise enough not to follow him out.

To be entirely 'fair,' she _had_ warned him. He rubbed his ear and the side of his face with a grimace. Other people simply _did not_ _behave_ that way towards Red Wizards, or Thayan nobles in general. He had never been treated with such despicable, companionable, invasive disrespect in his life. Though burning her in retribution may not have been the best reaction he could have come up with, there were times he simply wanted to put the damn child in her place.

* * *

When Edwin tired and returned to the lodge, he found Imoen had scooted away from the wall to give him space to lie down unmolested. The bat had snuggled up against her cheek and throat. He considered the sight of her for a moment as he sat down in his allotted space.

Edwin glanced over at Xan to make sure the blasted enchanter was not awake. The elf and his 'guardian' were sleeping flush against one another but back-to-back. Branwen (most likely accidentally) had an arm around the bard's waist, and Garrick had shifted closer to Branwen to give Imoen some space. Seeing the bard and thief separated by a clear margin gave him some form of satisfaction that could not be more specifically named.

The Red Wizards looked back to the sleeping form of his aggravating little 'friend' as he considered the challenges and irritations she posed and his various means of dealing with them. Then he thought of the potion he'd almost denied her just that very morning, and a frown tugged at his mouth.

Why had he felt such satisfaction watching her bleed out? She was annoying, and certainly strangling something so annoying yielded its base pleasures. (Of course, of course, but _this_ particular annoyance was pawn, prize, and ally. Not exactly expendable.)

No, of _course_ he didn't want to kill her. An arcane eidetic was a rare creature, unrelated to wild mages. (And what he wouldn't give to spirit the feather-brained thief to Thay!) He would still need a bit longer to decide if she was truly worth the effort, and to root himself more deeply in her good graces, but even then he was confronted with obstacles.

Edwin could not take her involuntarily (No, he could hardly expect decent results from a forced study of lethal magic). He could have arranged for her to be kidnapped (and then returned to Thay to, ahem, 'rescue' her.) But at such a great distance from his homeland, he would need to work with other Red Wizards to accomplish this task, and that was a risk which could easily lose him his prize to fools who would surely squander her.

(This was going to make it incredibly difficult to murder Dynaheir...)

Tempting her he had already shelved as useless; it was clear from Montaron's betrayal that Imoen was driven not by power, wealth, knowledge, magic, prestige, or even lust. (It simply _had_ to be loyalty...) Edwin could arrange Aegis' death with significantly more ease than a kidnapping, but his gut warned him to be cautious. Firstly, Aegis had proven hardy and resistant to assassination. Secondly, an apprentice was a long term investment, and a lifetime was a long while to keep her away from divination magic.

No, no, that would not do. He needed a better solution, which meant being patient and waiting. (Not his best skills, he admitted, but he'd make do.) He moved to lay down in his allotted space, turning his back towards her. As he did so, he again he thought about the damnable potion. Even if he disregarded the girl's talents, Imoen's death might have provoked Aegis into cleaving him in twain regardless of the hobgoblin explanation, and he would have had a difficult time holding his ground while nursing a damaged arm. So why had he almost withheld it?

Edwin hesitated, and then looked slowly over his shoulder at the girl who called herself his 'friend' but whom was nothing more than a silly child with great magical potential who needed a good lesson in etiquette. He lifted his fingers past his arm as if to touch her. Then he thought better of it and retracted his hand.

Not knowing the answer to the potion question bothered him, but he decided to put it out of mind.

* * *

Aegis was the first one up in the morning, that she could immediately see. Which was good; because she thought it might be entertaining to see who had stolen who's blankets in the night. As she shifted about, Xzar made a soft noise of displeasure. Seeing he wasn't yet ready to get up yet, she eased him to her side and kissed his brow to ease him back to sleep.

Getting to her knees, she peered around at her group mates. Viconia, for all that she supposedly was of elfin stock, was most certainly sleeping deeply. Did drow not take reverie? Perhaps, like Xan, Viconia had too many thoughts and burdens on her mind to reach a restful trance.

Much more amusing was Minsc. The barbarian had pulled Dynaheir half on top of himself like a doll and he'd nuzzled his face into her hair. Dynaheir had both of her arms around one of his. Not for the first time, Aegis wondered exactly what the duo's relationship might be. Maybe a little 'encouragement' was called for.

Aegis carefully stepped from one caravan to the other. Xan peered up at her almost immediately, and she realized that Xzar and Minsc were not the only ones with obsessive cuddling tendencies. Branwen had wrapped herself almost entirely around the elf. She even had an arm under the curve of his neck. The ranger lifted a brow and knelt down. [Are you okay?] she whispered in elfin.

Xan was quiet for a few moment as he considered the question. Then, surprisingly, he nodded. [I trust her. No one can be blamed for what they dream.]

Aegis tilted her head to the side but then nodded. She carefully stepped between and over legs and bodies until at last she came to the end of the lodge. Edwin had apparently backed up defensively against the wall of the wagon, and there was a good six inch gap between him and Imoen.

As much as Xan had just said it was silly judge a person by how they behaved in their sleep, Aegis was nevertheless reassured that there was no repressed attraction at work between her sister and the dangerously manipulative wizard.

For all Xzar's faults, the necromancer had never sought to demean, compel, or hurt Aegis. His most poignant barbs had been an effort to reveal her heritage. And although Montaron had clearly missed the memo not to kill his girlfriend's sister for money, Aegis got the sense that he'd been sweet to Imoen in his own way. Yes, Imoen was right: The Red Wizard was a wholly different breed of monster; Controlling, unsympathetic, cruel, and aloof.

Aegis took a moment to gently ruffle her sister's hair. Imoen, and indirectly Winthrop, were the only family she really had left in the world. Aegis had a hell of a lot on her mind for some damn good reasons, but that didn't mean she ought to shut Imoen out.

Aegis was going to have to find some way to tell Imm what was up. If there was anyone she _could_ trust, after all, it would be her little sis. And with Xzar leaving, she definitely needed someone to talk to about all of this.

* * *

_The high priest arrived some time later, but it took a combination of seven spells transcribed in tandem, not the least of which was his best spell breach, before Khelben felt satisfied the circle would do the job. Jaheira and Aliana waited nervously to see the spellery's conclusion as the wizard began to chant and the high priest began to pray. The spell inscriptions lit up with magical energy and then burst united into action. Instants later, the priest's Greater Restoration descended._

_Gorion convulsed dramatically, lunging to a half-seated position and clawing at the air as if fighting something off. His eyes were round and his jaws clenched. A moment later he collapsed back into the pillow, slowly realizing where he was and whom he was with._

_"Chai," he mumbled. The sugar glider hopped up onto his forearm and then his shoulder, her eyes round with ecstatic relief. He smiled weakly at her as his party members rushed to hsi side._

_"You are cured! Praise the ancients and all the gods of Harpers," Jaheira exclaimed._

_"Hello, Jaheira," Gorion answered softly as Chai hugged his face and he pet along her form with all the relief in the world. _

_Khelben sighed, paid the exhausted high priest an exorbitant donation, and then sent him off to rest. He came up to the foot of Gorion's bed and swatted the wood with his staff to get everyone's attention. "What. Happened?" the archmagi demanded._

_"You must have sent him off to investigate something!" Jaheira accused. She was not the most grateful of women, Khelben remembered dryly. _

_"Stop," Gorion muttered. "He did not tell me to go off alone in the middle of the night..."_

_"No, I did not," Khelben retorted. "Do you have any idea what it just took to bring you back to your senses? What sort of spell components I grind up in my chalks?"_

_Gorion looked quietly up at him, a grateful but pained and slightly traumatized expression on his face._

_Khelben frowned. "Yes, you do. Of course you do, and yet you look at me as if _overwhelmed_ that even I was able to help. Rion, what the hells happened?"_

_"It was a shrine," Jaheira supplied when Gorion looked momentarily stumped on where to start. "We managed to track him into it. It was a shrine of some dark god, and we arrived to find he'd nearly destroyed half of it with a nova of ice scaled to proportions I hadn't realized were in him. There... there was so much blood..."_

_"It was a shrine of Bhaal," Gorion grabbed on to this hook. "I overheard their prayers. They spoke of the impregnation of a thousand women carrying their... their lord's spawn. The high priestess was naked and had made a living sacrifice, and was asking to bare a son..."_

_Khelben recoiled backwards, staggered. "What?" He got a far off look, trying to determine what he might know about this. "Candlekeep..." he murmured slowly. "I need to get to Candlekeep..."_

_"You tried to take them on alone?!" Jaheira accused._

_"I did kill them all, and I wasn't alone," Gorion answered, watching Chai as she darted around in an amazed celebration of life. Moments later, she collapsed from exhaustion. He hugged her to his collar and rubbed her against his cheek._

_"Then... what happened?" Jaheira demanded in a less aggressive tone. A blind man could tell Chai must have nearly died._

_Gorion's eyes darkened. He looked up at Khelben. "The ritual did not work the way the priestess intended. Bhaal answered, but not favorably, and neither neutrally nor reproachfully either."_

_"What do you mean?" the archmagi queried, coming back to the present and frowning down at his friend._

_"The Slayer came through," Gorion told him, and the Chosen's expression twisted to one of pity and disbelief. "He- It... perhaps it was intending on killing them, but I'd already done the work. I-" the aasimar's voice cracked. "I was out on the summoning circle, trying to disrupt it when the avatar came through. I ought to be dead."_

_Jaheira looked to Aliana, who was the first to voice their revelation in full: "You fought a **god**?"_

_Gorion's laugh was more like a pained whimper. "I shrieked, bled, and cried like a child. Then in my delirium I attacked a rune in the summoning circle that gave me a full sixty seconds with which to drag myself out of the summoning circle and away. Away from the tethered shadow of but one avatar of a god whom I had encountered entirely on accident, and whom had no more pressing interest in me than to find me fun sport. I managed to destroy the portal and shrine from afar when it could no longer reach me."_

_"The shrine hid this all from Mystra's vision?" Khelben wondered, as gods could rarely justify personally confronting each other's worshipers. _

_Gorion's face contorted. "I was stupid. So stupid," he moaned. "I killed two of the clerics over its summoning circle, and the third with his own sacred dagger... I... it killed Chai," the aasimar whispered, no longer seeing them, "and held her soul right over me, like bait... I c-couldn't-..." He shuddered._

_Khelben looked at him quietly for a long moment and then at long last shook his head. "You fool. You brave, idiotic fool. You should be dead, your corpse desecrated beyond recognition."_

_"If... if it had slain them before I arrived," Gorion murmured, clinging to this hope that at least one thing had gone correctly, "I would have never overheard them speaking about these children-"_

_"Yes! Congratulations, you demented novice! Again you bring me knowledge I should not have access too, this time at the complete risk and expensive of self! Best you begin paying homage to Tymora you foolish whelp, lest you insult her charity!"_

_"I didn't know that they would-"_

_"You had us, and you chose to go alone," Jaheira interrupted him. "You are not immortal!"_

_Gorion was quiet for a moment, cuddling his familiar to his face. "If you had come, I might be burying you," he told her. "It moved so fast. It pinned me to the ground with its scythe like a preserved butterfly..." he didn't want to talk about Chai, or about what had happened afterward. He fell silent, and did not realize there were tears on his face until Chai complained about them wetting her fur._

_Seeing this, Jaheira fell quiet. She gave a long sigh and then sat slowly down on the bed beside him. "I will watch over him, Khelben. You said you believe you might find answers in Candlekeep?"_

_"I can only hope," The archmagi muttered. Then he sighed and leaned over to squeeze the aasimar's shoulder."For the sake of the gods, Rion, take it easy and rest for a few days. Or, you know, a month. You should not be alive; take some time to be grateful for that. Certainly, we all are."_


	7. Moral Codes

The storm had left all sorts of monsters hungry and bandits antsy, which meant that the group encountered no less than three different altercations on their way north. Remarkably, no one was seriously injured.

Then a family of normal gray and brown rabbits crossed their path. Xzar became so disturbed that he began speaking in tongues, and hours later he was still babbling hysterically about the event to anyone he could get hold of. It was only when he started muttering paranoid about whether or not there were insidious rabbit cysts inside each and every one of his party members, ready to break loose as rabid killing machines, that the party really took note.

They certainly did get to see their new cleric in action. Shouting out for the power to destroy her enemies while bashing open bandit skulls and throwing out the occasional, 'Shar, guide me!' felt bizarrely familiar, and by the end of the day Branwen and Viconia were conversing amiably.

The rain had let up and the land was drying, though the trip to Beregost took longer than they had expected and it proved necessary to sleep another day on the road. They managed to find a decent camp sight and were all grateful not to be so ridiculously squashed against one another.

Well, most of them. Xzar routinely shared a bedroll with Aegis anyway and, remarkably, it appeared that Xan and Branwen had touching palettes. The party was wise enough not to ask questions, although Boo and Minsc once more became confused.

The rain had let up and the land was drying, though the trip to Beregost took longer than they had expected and it proved necessary to sleep another day on the road. They managed to find a decent camp sight and were all grateful not to be so ridiculously squashed against one another. Well, most of them. They were still unpacking their things and laying their bedrolls out when Xzar calmly asked Viconia if he could check her for implanted rabbit tissue.

"No, no you may not, madman. Can... can anyone at all pull this fool rivvil away from me?" she asked, looking around.

"Aha! Denial! A sign that you are already infected!" the necromancer cooed, pulling out a knife. "Don't worry, this wont hurt much!"

"You insane little-" Viconia snarled, and then she was surprised when Xan darted up to them and grabbed Xzar by the wrist.

"Elf!" the necromancer exclaimed in surprise, turning pale green eyes on the enchanter. "You aren't infected, are you? I was just-"

"You need to go talk to Aegis about these rabbit cysts," Xan told him patiently.

"I... but..." Xzar hesitated. "How will I know if Eegee is infected or not?"

"I suppose you could ask her about her feelings regarding murder," Xan suggested astutely.

Xzar considered this. Then he slowly lowered his knife. "I am not feeling very well right now, am I?" he asked the elf with a note of dismay. Xan smiled apologetically and shook his head. "Oh. There must be so many different kinds of rabbits on my mind. I wonder if mine became greatly inconvenienced by the rain?"

"What is the fool sputtering about? Is he really so concerned with vermin?" Viconia huffed. Xan held up a hand in a gesture to politely hush her for now, and though it bothered her to be left out of the loop she waited patiently.

"Do you think less of me?" the necromancer wondered worriedly, leaning back and quickly lifting a hand to his face to gnaw on one finger.

"Not at all," the enchanter reassured. "To be honest, I am impressed it took this long. But you should still probably talk to Aegis."

"Yes," the agitated Zhent muttered, still chewing on a knuckle. Then he nodded and floated off to find his lover, still holding his dagger. She was gathering firewood, and he decided to tail her until such time as she could speak freely.

"What was that?" Viconia sputtered in disgust. "Are all of you mad?"

Xan looked at her pointedly. "We took in _you_," he allowed, and then turned and walked away.

There were a few more girlish shrieks and fits that evening from their resident necromancer, and Aegis decided sleeping on top of _him_ that evening was likely the safest recourse. Although he writhed and complained and wailed at her in several languages and a few different voices at first, the tactic eventually proved successful. By morning he had regained his anchor in reality and was operating back on a reasonably functional level.

* * *

As they neared Beregost, the group worked out it's anti-assassination plan for first approaching and then later guarding the inn. Aegis was clearly the prime target, but after their success in Nashkel it was established that no one in the group should go anywhere alone. Aegis countered that this meant they needed a good inn with strong alcohol within reasonable distance of the Thunderhammer Smithy. The Juggler was chosen for meeting these criteria.

They had a moment's hang up when it was determined that Xan was the only person in the group whose illusions were good enough to conceal Viconia for a long duration. Though the enchanter clearly didn't like the task asked of him, he put up no fuss. Viconia interrupted his casting only to tell him she would rather appear human than elfin. He didn't question her on the choice, instead casting the disguise spell as she wished it to give them all a little breathing room.

Xan entered the inn first, using his _Detect Thoughts_ to survey the patrons; Garrick accompanied him and offered to join the regular bard for no charge and no tips, provided he was given a discount on a room. He used this to get into position in case a _Fascination_ was needed. Garrick had only been playing for a few minutes when it occurred to him he was a better musician than the bard beside him. That was odd given, that he didn't think such the same had been true only a month earlier when he'd last been in Beregost. Most peculiar.

In any event, there were no assassins at the Juggler that evening, much to the party's relief. Aegis personally ordered Viconia a heaping tray of food and a bottle of fine wine, and the party more or less celebrated her addition to the team once more. Though a little bemused by all the positive attention, Viconia was thankful.

* * *

"Looks like the room availability is restricted tonight," Aegis told them as she came back from the innkeeper. "The inn's pretty booked. Double up as you can and we'll stick mostly to peasant rooms." Xzar perked up. Aegis chuckled. "We'll push the beds together," she assured him.

"Alright everyone, back to living on a sparse purse," Imoen giggled. "Who's rooming with who? Don't make Garrick and I break out the paper again!"

"I got a discount on a merchant suite," Garrick chimed as he came up to the bar for a drink. "I figured I'd offer it whole to Xan, first. If not, then Aegis and Xzar."

"I would volunteer to room with thee Viconia, if you have need," Dynaheir offered. Minsc considered this, consulted Boo, and then decided this was quite acceptable. Branwen looked about to offer the drow the same, but then she paused and glanced back at Xan. The elf lifted a brow languidly at her. Then he realized she was asking him if he still needed her to watch over him. He tensed a little, but then looked back to his dinner and shook his head, making a shooing gesture at her.

Branwen thought, amused, that Xan always had some of the most crumpled and defensive body posture she'd ever seen on any person. His shoulders were bowed, his elbows were close together, and he was leaned over the table with his legs crossed beneath it. She would have to comment to him on it eventually, she thought, because it came off as almost girlishly sensual, and she was sure that was _not_ how the elf wanted to appear to people.

Without thinking much about it, she reached over and pulled stray hair out of his face. Xzar was right; even with the outrageously glorious braids, Xan's hairline and jaw were just masculine enough to convey his gender openly. "We need to redo your braids," she chuckled. The last thing they needed was some well-meaning gallant knight accidentally flirting with him.

Xan tried to decide if this braiding idea filled him with horror or not. "Is it going to involve me being molested by half a dozen women, a madman, and a bard again?"

"Oh most certainly," Branwen teased.

He picked up the tail end of his thick plait and examined the microbraids that wove through it. It _was_ exceptionally lovely work... "I may yet survive," he decided morosely.

"That's the spirit!"

"_Excuse_ me, but I have a complaint to take up with our valiant leader," the Thayvian announced from where he had finished his meal and was now exercising his injured arm.

Aegis looked to him. He was drinking. Good. "Voice it."

"I have been the last pick of _everything_ since the moment I joined this group. I have been the last pick at scrolls, the last pick of rooms, the last pick of what we eat, what we buy, and what gear we use party currency to purchase. I should like to at least be first pick at _something,_" he explained his grievance.

Aegis leaned back in her seat, glancing at her party mates. This was fairly reasonable, especially given that it was coming from Edwin.

"When I joined you threw me in wherever you could fit me. An insult, considering my talents, but that is not my point. I ended up rooming with the bard, whose late night strumming distracted me from my studies, and whose sexual orientation I have now begun to question. So I would very much appreciate if you would either pay for me to have my own room from here on out- a luxury I certainly deserve- or at least let me pick my own roommate."

Aegis leaned back in her chair. "Alright, Edwin. If you're reasonable. Who do you want to room with?"

The Thayvian twiddled his fingers one by one, touching each to his palm and then extending it. "Imoen," he answered.

Minsc looked uncertainly at Dynaheir to see if he should be kicking any butts, or if this was simply another taunt...

Aegis grimaced and glanced at her sister, who shrugged. The thief continued to have a bat on her head, although now she appeared quite apt at ignoring it. "I'm fine with it," she agreed. "Edwin, no bringing wenches back to the room and I won't bring any bards. We both bathe before coming home. Deal?"

Aegis tensed and Xan lifted his head in surprise. "Deal," the Thayvian agreed. "Speaking of which, is our bet still on?"

"You betcha!"

"Then you are at a disadvantage, as I have already secured a wench for the evening."

"Ha! See the sun elf over there in the corner? I have a date in his bedchambers as soon as dinner's over, _and_ with the tavern bard around midnight when his shift ends!"

He glanced at her and then back at his hand, as Aegis and Xan both simultaneously covered their faces and Branwen broke out laughing. Edwin seemed mildly impressed. "Hnh, you are better than I expected. I shall have to procure a second wench..."

"You're doomed before you've even started, Edwin Odesseiron! I'm not done for the night after one go!"

"Please, Oghma, my ears, strike me deaf," Aegis moaned, unable to believe she was listening to her baby sister.

Edwin grinned as he eased his arm back into the sling. "My dear, sweet, naive girl. I am a _wizard_. What on _Faerun_ makes you think I can only 'go' _once_?"

Imoen grinned wolfishly all the same. "You'll never keep up with me!" she proclaimed. "You're too _old_!"

Edwin looked half offended and half like a predatory lion who had been roused from slumber at the prospect of a good hunt. "I'm _experienced_," he disagreed with a lecherous grin. "And willing to pay, which I assure you makes it easier. Three for three then. Let's make sure you can _walk_ come morning, little girl."

"You're on, cranky dragon, you're on," Imoen grinned with a wink, and then she finished up her dinner and slipped free of the table. Garrick gaped after her red-cheeked.

"Did I do this?" he asked, alarmed.

"No," Aegis sighed. "Methinks this might have always have been within the realm of the possible, and was simply repressed by about three hundred pounds of tear-jerking elfin romance novels. But for your sake? Blame Edwin. It's very convenient to just blame Edwin."

"Ha! There is nothing to blame!" Minsc disagreed. "She can take care of herself! The little purple thief is _incredibly slippery_, right Boo?" Viconia said something about 'natural,' to Dynaheir, who appeared to be trying to figure out whom she wanted to slap first: Edwin for being a whore, a lecher, and a terrible influence; or Imoen to put some sense in her head.

"Aye, don't you worry about her, she's just a hot-blooded lass is all," Branwen laughed. Aegis grimaced. "Happens to half of everyone! Annnddd on that delightful note, enchanter, I think I'd like to continue rooming with you!"

Xan grimaced. "Please do not ply such humor on me," he requested politely.

She laughed harder. "Ho, don't get your head in a tizzy; I promise not to bring back any bards either," she winked over her mug of ale. _If you are reading my thoughts right now to see if I've broken my promise of friendship to ye, little man..._

He ducked his head and nearly dropped his drink. "I am sorry!" he exclaimed, lifting his hands both to shield himself and in supposition. "Forgive me, _nildoen nin_! I am sorry!"

Branwen rolled her eyes and smirked, easing a companionably arm around the elf. "We have to be training ye not to do that," she teased. "No matter how paranoid you get, silly wizard."

"I need more alcohol," Aegis decided, getting up to grab something she knew stood a chance at intoxicating her. "I'll rent the rooms out and ask for some rumors. You want some mead, my wizard?"

"Yes, thank you. Try a shot of Wyvern Whisky," Xzar suggested, looking at Edwin with something resembling pity.

* * *

"Okay, let's remember why we're here," Aegis sighed heavily. She'd been away almost half an hour and Edwin had fled (presumably in search of one wench or another) She passed Xzar his belated mead and settled down with both a cup and an entire bottle of whisky.

"You can't drink that much!" Xzar protested.

"Watch me," Aegis responded, pouring herself a tumbler full and then passing around room keys to the party. "Tomorrow we need to ask around town and see if we can track down anyone with reasonable skills and a vendetta against bandits, as well as deal with upgrading our gear as the smithy. We still need to fill three or four pairs of shoes."

"An archer and two shield bearers would be ideal," Dynaheir agreed. "This is no small task we are attempting. And with such a large party, we might want to see if we can find even further help for the task of healing."

"Did the bar man have tips?" Minsc asked, offering Aegis his cup hopefully. She considered him, and then poured him some liquor.

"He had more than a few; this crisis has attracted a lot of do-gooers and opportunists," Aegis chuckled. "I told him we needed talent and a legitimate bone to pick with the bandits. Told him we didn't need bored mercenaries, sweet personalities, or well-meaning fools. He asked if we were the group from Nashkel, and I told him we planned to track down the bandit camp. He said that changed things and he had about three men he could think of who might fit our needs. Mmm. That burns something wonderful it does," she added, looking at her cup and smacking her lips. "Num. Good suggestion."

"You are going to get drunk," Xzar sighed, sipping on his mead. "Who were the men?"

"That is _definitely_ the point. The first name he gave was a dwarf called Kagain who runs caravans heading north. He says the bandits have nearly driven him broke and he's been talking about heading out to chop some heads. The bartender seemed to think he meant it and that this fellow really knew his way around a weapon."

"Kagain... Kagain..." Xzar made a face. "Banite. Merchant. Retired."

She glanced at him. "You know him?"

"We might have joined up with him if we hadn't met up with you," Xzar explained. "You might like him, even. He has his vices, but he is reasonable. He could out drink you."

"I take this as a sign from the wonderful, foamy parts of the heavens- and most likely also the hells- that we should recruit him," the ranger toasted to the continued health of their as of yet un-approached and un-recruited new dwarf.

"The other names?" Dynaheir asked curiously.

"He says there is a loner ranger with a fierce reputation who has been bringing in bandit scalps with a vengeance, who usually stays in the Juggler when he comes into town and who is due for stocking up on enchanted ammunition. Doesn't give his name. Bitter, drinks hard, and has referred to his experiences taking out parties out bandit hunting as 'babysitting.' Bartend says he'll recommend us to the man because the ranger's desperate to hit the main camp."_  
_

"How will we know him?"

"Elf, and green warpaint on the face," Aegis answered.

Xan sighed. "For Viconia's sake, we may wish to go easy on the number of elves we recruit," he admitted. "No matter how badly I might enjoy the company. I think I can simply content myself with the assumption this ranger is a psychotic woodsman and pretend the opportunity never came up..."

Viconia regarded him and straightened up a little. "Your concern is appreciated." Xan waved a hand absently, signifying nothing. "What was the third name, then?"

"The third name..." Aegis drawled, pouring herself another tumbler full of burning greenish brew.

"Is Ajantis Ilvarstarr," said a strong voice as someone in beautifully shiny white plate stepped up to their table. Viconia glanced and then did a double take. A look of horror spread over her face and she nearly crawled straight out the back of her seat. "Paladin of-"

"A _HELMITE!?_" Viconia protested.

The paladin paused, lips parted, uncertain if he had ever received quite this response from anyone upon introducing himself in his life. "Is... that going to be a problem... for some reason...?" he asked slowly.

"It depends," Aegis said after a brief pause with a raised brow. "How _badly_ do you want to kill bandits?"

The paladin straightened, and Viconia appeared so distraught that Dynaheir actually gave the disguised drow a partial embrace to keep her from ripping her mace free and assaulting anyone. "I am a paladin and squire of the Order of the Radiant Heart," he explained to Aegis and to the whole party. "And I have been sent by my superior, Keldorn Firecam, to help aid in eradicating the bandit menace plaguing the sword coast however I can. I am told that your group was able to succeed where all others failed in the Nashkel mines. If you tell me that you are now intending on taking on the bandits, then I _beg_ you permit me to assist you."

"Ho! That is good!" Minsc boomed. "Together we shall bring trouble to villany! What say you, Aegis? Oh? Wait." He conferred with the hamster, his heavy brow furrowed. "The dark lady... may need heroic rescuing?" he asked the rodent quietly. "But why is that, she is very tough, no?"

Aegis cocked her head to the side. "How well can you follow orders?" she asked of the Helmite.

"Duty to one's cause outweighs all," he answered. "Should you lead me in battle against the bandits, I will not fail to heed you."

"That's a big promise you're making," Aegis told him. "Are you sure you can keep it? I don't take kindly at all to men or women who ignore my rules, and I've been running into a lot of unsavory or confrontational people lately."

Viconia looked from the paladin to Aegis, a sneer of disbelief on her face. Xan looked strangely indecisive, regarding the newcomer with a frown on his face. Ajantis took a deep breath. "Milady, if you would bring an end to these bandits, I _swear_ to you on my honor and my life that I will obey your commands for as long as I am with your party. You have my word, my vow. I would happily die for such a just cause."

"I would happily _not_ die and achieve the cause by alternative means," Xan muttered.

Aegis glanced around at her party members. Her necromancer was giving her a dark, quiet look that suggested that while she ought to be careful what fires she stuck her hands into, he wasn't going to stop her. Dynaheir's immediate reassurance/restraint of Viconia suggested reduced problems in that quadrant. Xan did not look particularly happy. But no, the biggest problem would have been Edwin, and by fate or fortune he was off wenching. Served the Red Wizard right if they recruited a paladin right under his nose.

"Very well," Aegis told him, looking up at the paladin with a winning smile. "Pull up a chair and get yourself some alcohol, and let's celebrate a little! Ah. My very first rule, however, is that there is to be absolutely no infighting in my party. Ever, or for any reason. And that includes verbal insults or glaring philosophical differences. Always. Is that clear?"

"I... I am capable of tempering myself," the paladin told her humbly, gratefully stooping to ease a chair aside and clank into it. "I have been on the road long enough to know not all men approach life or combat with the same zeal I hold for my faith. But I have longed to wipe the_ evil_ of these bandits from the coast. _Thank_ you, milady, for trusting me."

"Of course! Allies in goodness, fighting with sword and steel, rangers and hamsters, clerics and warriors! We shall take down this evil bandit king and show him his error! He is on the wrong side!" Minsc exclaimed enthusiastically, and Branwen raised her mug.

"I'll drink ta that!" she laughed. "My name is Branwen. Ajantis, was it? Pleasure to meet you! I am a devotee of Tempus. To you I say: may your sword arm hold as true as your convictions!"

"Thank you miss Branwen. Ah. A Norheimer?" he wondered aloud, and then a curious smile touched his lips. "You... you are a most... lovely woman," he realized.

Branwen perked up, surprised. Then a smile twisted her lips. "Oh? Well... Thank ye for your kinds words," she said, clearly flattered.

Xan nearly snorted out a gulp of wine through his nose. He choked, earning a surprised look from cleric and paladin both. "I'm fine," he protested, and then cringed in anticipation when Branwen went to thump him on the back. Fortunately, she thought better of this, and instead patted him gently.

"Our leader must be growing on me; I am going to need more mead," Xzar decided, peering at his cup. "And someone who has not suggested her entrails are filled with rabbit cysts should likely buy Lady DeVir a wine, whilst they tell the story of how dearly our Aegis loves contradictions..."

* * *

_Gorion did, as it turned out, spend the better part of a month recuperating, though not of his own volition. They all had Jaheira to thank for this. The woman had struck up a bargain with Chai (which no doubt involved some form of berry) to police the wizard as he recuperated from the strain of so much potent death magic. Gorion couldn't do anything without Chai noticing, and Chai reported everything to Jaheira. His efforts to rejoin his group ended up thwarted nearly before they began._

_It was only when he was at last able to convince Chai that they were both quite recovered that he managed to sneak up on his own party. A fortunate chance of fate, as they had just been captured by Hobgoblins in the night._

_An hour later and Jaheira found herself lecturing an utterly invective-proof and smug wizard, who knew as well as any of them that he had just masterfully rescued the entire party. _

_Though he tried to contact Khelben magically, the archmagi was either too busy or simply keeping him out of the loop and did not respond. Therefore it was not until Gorion and his party returned to Waterdeep that Gorion was able to go physically go and check up on his friend. _

* * *

_"Ah, good, we've been expecting you!" the red-robed wizard greeted him._

_Gorion paused in surprise as he found not only Khelben within the private study, but other two others: Elminster, and a Chosen he knew little about by the name of Esmerae. He had never seen her before, and she was not one of the more prolific Chosens of Mystra, but he could sense the goddess's power almost immediately upon entering. In fact, the gathering of such much... Mystra-ism in one place was a little overwhelming. It felt briefly like he had walked in on a private tea session between gods. _

_"Am I intruding?" Gorion hesitated. _

_"The opposite," Khelben sighed, gesturing for Gorion to enter. Then he handed a sheet of parchment to Elminster, who chuckled and nodded in greeting. _

_"Good to see you again, Rion. You were actually the topic of conversation. Khelben tells me you are the one who helped place him on the scent of this rotten little puzzle."_

_The aasimar stepped forward, nodding to all three giants. Well, no, he nodded to two of them. He had never managed to muster the respectful demeanor his old tutor actually deserved. "You are discussing Bhaal?" Gorion asked, concerned._

_"Specifically, a chilling prophecy foreseen by the sage Alaundo, the scholar who founded Candlekeep," Elminster acknowledged, looking down to the paper he'd recieved. "And one that's set us all to bickering with eachother."_

_Esmerae leaned over and nodded to herself. "The Lord of Murder shall perish, __but in his death he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. __Chaos will be sown from their passing, s__o sayeth the wise Alaundo. That is the cant. And these other writings... he elaborates. He anticipates a crisis that could level cities or nations."_

___"The Lord of Murder shall perish?" Gorion repeated slowly. "It is a rare event for a god to die."_

___"Though not unheard of," Elminster agreed. "We can't know exactly what will happen, but what we do understand is that this foretells not only a disaster, but also the efforts of a doomed god to cleverly cheat fate. The objective is either a last laugh of chaos or, more likely, to rebirth himself through the lives of the most powerful child."_

___Gorion felt chilled. "Those children we rescued in Amn," he whispered in dismay. _

___"Aye," Khelben muttered. "Which leads us to what to do about what we've learned, exactly."_

___The assimar nodded. "I am merely glad the information I brought back proved helpful."_

___"Helpful?" Esmerae wondered. "It was an interception of considerable proportions. But... the information poses its difficulties..."_

___Gorion was about to move to the seat Khelben was gesturing to, but Esmerae suddenly stood and floated up to the aasimar, studying his face intently. She was an elf, and her eyes were a rich, bold violet. Staring at her in surprise, he wondered if he had ever seen another woman so beautiful in all his life. Then a spot of clarity broke the effect: she was clearly an enchanter. _

___"Esmerae!" Khelben complained indignantly. "Do not bother him! He has been through enough of late without you digging in his mind."_

___"I apologize, Gorion, for we have only just met," the elf told him languidly in a voice like fragrant jasmine, "but we have been told you encountered the Lord of Murder himself... and it would be unwise of us to discuss our intentions openly before we know he has not left any shred of himself in your mind."_

___"Esmerae..." Khelben growled, climbing to his feet. Elminster sipped his chicory and tilted his head to the side, watching the three of them with a raised brow and an intrigued expression. _

___Gorion, however, did not falter in the face of her gaze. "I think your concern is understandable, and to be honest it is one at times I have shared. I have been plagued by dreams with dark topics." Khelben looked about to say something, so he kept talking: "I know the strain involved with permitting an Enchanter so deep within one's thoughts but... as long as my privacy is safe with you, Chosen, I would trust you to ascertain my wholeness."_

___"Relax then, child," she told him, end the world went gray to Khelben's disapproving hiss._

* * *

___"Are you quite done? __Relinquish him!" Esmerae blinked rapidly in surprise as Elminster tugged on her sleeve and Khelben bodily forced her back from the aasimar. Gorion stumbled in a daze, and the archmagi caught him under the arms to keep him from falling over. Swearing about enchantments, he helped the man down into the chair he had originally proscribed. The younger mage was unaware of any of them. "I told you already there was nothing. So you've found nothing. And when you found nothing, you dug deeper and splayed finer than you ought to have, and you STILL found nothing."_

_Esmerae frowned to herself, lifting a hand uncertainly to her temple. "I was so certain... My premonition-"_

_Blackstaff scowled angrily at her, murmuring a word over Gorion to help ease the effects of the intrusion. "You misunderstood your premonition!"_

_"I did," she admitted. "I suppose one of us must be humble now and then... But Khelben, he did agree-"_

_"Without knowing you dove in against our advisement, already expecting to find something which I'd told you wasn't there. Are there any more of my old apprentices whose minds you would like to flay this morning?"_

_"That is unfair of you," Esmerae told him. "There is no sin in the art of enchantment."_

_"You had little right to his memories," Khelben told her, "and your power does not in any way entitle you to all of Faerun's thoughts."_

_"This is one of the benefits to shared mental harmony," she disagreed, "which I have been trying to convince you of for ages. When there are no secrets there is no scorn, no separation, no hatred, no suffering, no war... But that is not what I attempted here. Besides, if the thoughts I gather serve for the benefit of the whole-"_

_"If you ever practice your enchantments on someone in my home again without my explicit permission, there will be one less Chosen standing here at the end of the day. And I do not mean that in a friendly, 'Get the hell out of my tower,' way."_

_Esmerae's eyes widened in surprise as she watched Khelben coax a cup of roasted chicory into Gorion's shaking hands. Then she looked uncertainly to Elminster. "What have I said? What did I miss?" she asked in confusion._

_Elminster chuckled and stood up. "An education in social etiquette, privacy, identiy, and body language, no doubt eschewed as a child when you started swimming through other peoples' heads. Is that right, Khelben? I seem to remember that was your description of our dear enchantress..."_

_Blackstaff muttered under his breath, and then whispered a deafness spell as he could tell Gorion was coming to._

_"Well, Esmerae, are you satisfied that our dear aasimar has not been tampered with?"_

_"Yes," she answered, "though he remembers little of what the deity did to him. I assume through trauma, he simply refused to form those memories. I could, of course, try to call them forward anyway through the Weave, but clearly he is free of the Death God's taint."_

_Khelben sneered. He had been there, standing beside Jaheira. He had seen the exact nature of the wounds, and knew some memories should not be relieved. "Good. Then leave him be until he recovers himself. And, by the gods, if you dare so much as hint to him that we are considering him for the role... if he does not volunteer for it unprovoked-!"_

_"Rest assured, Khelben, I planted no such thought in his head," Esmerae answered._

_"We should be seeing to this. Not leaving it to others."_

_"We most certainly cannot act so directly against another god. We would be perceived. We would invite trouble and a united retribution against all Mystra's worshipers. We need to work through an agent, Khelben. Someone who we can help but whom we can trust utterly. And though I had my misgivings, from what I saw, you and Elminster are correct. He is made of hardier stock and firmer will than perhaps you even realize."_

_"Spare me."_

* * *

I manage to write Ajantis entirely by picturing Spirited Away's Haku in my head, because then I'm not thinking 'paladin paladin paladin paladin paladin' and flattening the character out . I assume I shall have to do the same with Cernd, but for different reasons...

Esmerae is not canon. I wanted an uber enchanter, whom I'm sure lives in a glimmering purple tower with an armada of pseudodragons somewhere, cloaked in illusion, who occasionally lures in hapless men to assist her with quests


	8. Life Calling

In this FFFF, we learn that some things are easier in a world _without _magic, as one can be pretty faithfully argue that no children are ever born evil...  
And now I am imagining a paladin adopting baby succubi. Hmm. I imagine bathing and clothing them would end up incredibly awkward at times...

* * *

Life Calling

* * *

_"What is to be done?" Gorion had finally asked them. The Chosens had been discussing among themselves the various potential locations of shrines and temples to the dark god, and had looked over a map of aggregated rumors to identify concentrations of enemy activity. It taken around thirty minutes for the aasimar to completely recover as he sipped on his drink and his shaking eased. It was a faster recovery than they had expected._

_"Truth be told," Esmerae sighed, "we are trying to figure out how to handle a thousand miniature Bhaals without turning into monsters ourselves. Though my divinations are powerful, and we have managed to observe some of the Murder Lord's spawn, we only know so much about their conditions. __Our only comfort is that by doing this, Bhaal has weakened himself to the point where we may be able to outmaneuver him."_

_"Do you know why the Bhaalites have been collecting them?" he asked._

_"They have his divinity, and the rush of murder in their blood, but we've found varying levels of taint. __The Bhaalites are collecting his spawn and evaluating their health, taint level, and worthiness. If found lacking, the infants are given back unto their father, or fed to their more deserving siblings. They appear able to cannibalize each others' essences."_

_Gorion looked rightly mortified at this revelation, and the other Chosen were likewise grim. Elminster tapped the letters copied from Candlekeep. "Alaundo does not say so explicitly, but reading between the lines he seems to imply these spawn are engineered to slaughter each other in a rapid, bitter rivalry upon coming of age. And that would certainly make a high degree of sense, if Bhaal is betting on one of them becoming powerful enough to reincarnate himself. What better demonstration of death than the sacrifice of a thousand of his own children? He will try to weld their souls together into vessel strong enough to hold them."_

_"Can they be stolen from him somehow?" the aasimar prompted and Khelben sighed in exasperation._

_"That is our problem. He... tampered with them. Infected them with his own spirit. They don't have proper souls such that can be devoted to a divine patron. When one dies, its essence can either be eaten or else returns to the Death God as energy. By the end he'll have cannibalized every last one of them. They will more or less cease existing."_

_"There is a way to free them from this fate," Esmerae disagreed. "Bhaal's architecture is cruel, but even a god leaves holes. I believe that b__y hallowing a Bhalite high priest's dagger and re-enchanting it in the name of an equally powerful deity, we could collect the souls and deliver them to an alternative patron. This would save them from dissolution, prevent Bhaal from regaining his power investment, and reduce the strength available to his spawn."_

_"That still involves someone putting a dagger through a hell of a lot of children," Khelben told her. "Or juveniles, if we wait for pity's sake."_

_Esmerae looked at Blackstaff knowingly. "You think you are the only one who pities them? If we wait, Khelben, we will lose hundreds of them as they are fused back into their father or their siblings," she reminded him. "Pity them in that way. If my theory is correct (and we can test it simply enough) we can enchant the weapon to inflict no pain or discomfort. A touch, and the body will dissolve to golden dust that will be captured by the weapon; permitting us to liberate the soul from its spiritual death."_

_He waved at her, still angry with her from earlier and at what he had already seen of her morality. Saving them from utter destruction by killing their mortal bodies was hardly fair, and while it might have been the best the Chosen could do with their current knowledge, none of the three were happy about it._

_"They are partially divine," Elminster noted. "__There is only one deity qualified to take in such a large influx of powerful and yet delicate spirits and do right by them, and that Lathander. It is in his portfolio to provide for newborns. Let us contact the Morninglords and make known to them our situation. With a little luck and divine haggling, these spirits would end up on the path to being reincarnated as angels and archons."_

_"It still involves someone putting a dagger through a hell of a lot of children," Khelben repeated, leaning his cheek on his staff and regarding Elminster with shuttered eyes._

_The red archmagi nodded gravely. "Then as none of the Chosen can move so directly against Bhaal without provoking a reaction, I pity the poor fool who helps us."_

_"You are asking if I will do it," Gorion muttered quietly into his cup. Khelben tensed. "Well. Two of you are. The other is too, but is personally hoping I walk away."_

_Esmerae blinked at the young aasimar in surprise as Khelben grimaced in dismay. The whole party was awkwardly silent for a long moment before Elminster suddenly broke out laughing. He covered his face and wiped a tear from his eye under the disturbed stares of the others. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he pleaded. "This is a horribly morbid time to be laughing! It's just that we think ourselves so clever and wise and mysterious sometimes. And here, he sees straight through us like we are as transparent as white crystal. Are you sure you tutored this one Khelben, and not the reverse? I think he is more insightful than we."_

_"Tell me," the aasimar said quietly. "What will happen to the spawn that reach maturity?"_

_"They will start being overtaken by him, as near as we understand it," Esmerae explained. "Murder is bred to their bones. And as they indulge, they will manifest his abilities one by one. Their purpose is to celebrate and rekindle his darkness. As they near the end, they will each begin acquiring his avatar forms.__ Alaundo predicts a terrible slaughter across all the Faerun. Chaos and destruction; death and suffering. Alaundo does not mention it, but we as Chosen know enough the ways of gods to infer that, in the end, one may even become great enough to _become_ him, and then he will live again._

_"Not all," Elminster told her sternly. "Rion, we told you we saw the taint levels varied, and it is true. While we haven't seen it yet, a few of these spawn might be salvageable. The taint may manifest weak enough that the soul forms in full and, if we are very careful, the child will be able to expel his power in adulthood. Having the help of someone __innately sensitive to abyssal taint may help us at least save a few of their lives."_

_"They were conceived through rape by a cruel god, and they carry his will within them," Esmerae responded. "They are often vicious from birth. They are being abandoned in the streets; gathered up by the cultists like cattle; and culled and refined into monsters. In the event that we should track down a temple or hideaway like Gorion found in Amn..."_

_"You will need a party to handle it," Gorion finished, feeling strangely detached. The world was stranger looking from the sky downward._

_"If we are going to do this," Khelben muttered, "let us limit it to the spawn already in Deathstalker hands."_

___"A__ loving mother exerts strange powers over her child's soul, however frail and polluted it might begin," Elminster noted, and he and Khelben both looked to Esmerae as if daring her to argue that taking any child from a voluntary parent and delivering it to an diety could be mercy. She did not, cowed by them._

_"And we need to keep looking for alternate means of helping them," Blackstaff added. "As hopeless as it might seem to excise a child's divinity when soul and parent are so infernally welded; neither of these fates we offer them are satisfactory. And picking the lesser of two evils is still treading dangerously on the toes of the Harper creed to let people live freely, as if I needed to remind you."_

_"This technique only works because it exploits their reaction to death and to bone," Esmerae began, but Khelben silenced her with a glare._

_"I will do it," the aasimar told them quietly, his heart heavy as he envisioned a thousand Slayer shades loosed on the world. "Because if I don't, twenty years from now I will end up looking a man in the eye knowing that his children were killed by Ravager demons I failed to stop." He closed his eyes. "But please, as you've said, keep looking. Both of these paths are cruel." Khelben put a hand on his shoulder and he lifted his head and opened his eyes again. "I do not want to involve my current party."_

_"We will assemble one," Elminster agreed. "We have a Lathanderite cleric operating out of Sembia who has been giving us strong leads, and a vampire hunter coming down from Icewind Dale whom we think we might be able to entice. Ulraunt will likely remain at Candlekeep, but he has some acute tips that we've also been exploring."_

_"Since when does Candlekeep involve itself in anything other than books?" Gorion asked curiously._

_"The Bhaalspawn prophecy is one of Alaundo's most potent," Elminster told him. "The old buzzard has his flaws to be certain, but he's been keeping his eyes open for signs the better part of his life. And when they started showing up, he noticed them." _

* * *

"Xzar, exactly _why_ am I rapidly getting _less_ drunk?" Aegis complained angrily as she stormed into the bedroom. Then she paused on the realization that Xzar was performing a divination. He perched on the bed with his legs crossed and his eyes rolled up in his head, much in the same way Xan had done. "What did you do?" she growled anyway, stomping up to her necromancer and planting her hands on her hips. "Xzar..."

He twitched slightly at her call and then blinked rapidly. After a moment he tilted his head to the side and looked curiously up at her. "Ah," he murmured. "Hello."

Aegis glowered. "I _intended_ to become completely smashed, and I ought to be gone right now. By a longshot. What _evil_, alcohol-killing venom did you slip in me?"

"Montaron was delayed by the rain, and based on his progress, I believe I can remain here tonight and tomorrow night," Xzar told her, a quirk of a smile stirring at his lips. It was only once, after all, and he was sure she'd forgive him. "But then I will leave long before the sun is up."

Aegis frowned, trying to maintain her glower. However, at this reminder that her lover intended to depart, she looked guiltily down at the whisky bottle she was holding. Xzar folded his hands together and said nothing, though privately speaking he _did_ feel slightly relieved that his vivacious ranger might prefer his company to the moors of severe intoxication, even when brooding. After a moment of contemplation, she heaved a large sigh and then set the bottle down on the bedside table.

"I should warn you to be careful with the Helmite," he cautioned her with a note of seriousness.

"Is this where you tell me all paladins are horrible dirty monsters and I should let you dissect them; or is this another lecture about not trusting good people?" she asked him with an irritable tone, still not quite forgiving him for stealing her buzz.

He smirked to himself, propping his chin up on a fist and watching her intently as she turned back to him, his painted grin accentuating his fondness. "No, you are behaving consistent for your character," he permitted her. "I caution you out of an appreciation for your dichotomy, _Mal Dinok_. What do you know of paladins?"

"Honor-bound, warriors, altruistic, protectors, intolerant..." She listed, wishing she were more than mildly warm from the buzz of alcohol.

"Could we say that you are in many ways honor-bound, a warrior, altruistic, a protector, but tolerant?" Xzar queried, watching her with eyes bright against the black diamonds.

"Sure, I guess so..." she allowed.

"Mm. That is not a small point of difference, _Byatskhan Moaratuk_," he told her gravely, his mouth relaxing into a somber expression. "It _defines_ you. And it defines him. In a paladin's world, there must be no room for evil to even take root, much less roam freely. That holds true even if an evil behaves itself. He will provoke the party, and they will provoke him.

"The others might assume you all bark and no bite after you loosed Montaron without a fuss, but I know better." Xzar uncrossed his legs and stood slowly, lifting his hands to stroke gently along her arms. "The halfling targeted _you_, not someone under your protection. And in the latter case, I know you will kill an aggressor rather than stand by and watch a death play out."

Aegis tilted her head to the side, a perplexed expression on her face. "That's... not entirely the sort of advice I expected from you," she admitted. "Where's this coming from?"

Her necromancer smiled softly, lifting a hand to brush curls behind her ear. "I do not have to share your innocence to acknowledge it," he teased her. "This paladin is filled with the same altruistic zeal to help dirt farmers that also compels you. I see that! I do not deny it. But if he forces you to put a sword through his belly, or through Viconia's, I do not fool myself to think you will be happy. You may even end up staring at liquids again, wondering if you know the reflection." He rubbed his thumb gently over her fingers. "And we cannot have _that_."

The ranger pulled back an inch, peering at her lover in a new light, uncertain if she entirely recognized him. She recalled his act of offering her the lock of silver hair when she'd learned of her heritage. "Since... since when do you warn me away from opportunities to murder someone?" she asked slowly. "I would think you'd be urging me into them."

This seemed a rehash of an old conversation! What was bothering her? He scowled and tapped her nose. "Dismissive. Narrow. Does not become you." Then he smiled again, quirking his head to the side and admiring her. "My intention is not to council you in what _I_ would do in your shoes, but rather on the basis of the course you have set for yourself. I might have been tempted to undermine you, if your father's golden ire did not continuously smolder in your bones. Out of affection for you, I encourage you to be careful with your Nature Childe mask. It may be the only thing that has protected you from being swallowed by him. Don't break it."

Xzar had quite naturally expected his advice to comfort his lover, so he was rightly startled when Aegis suddenly backed up and began shaking her head. She looked around the room, half turning from him and running a hand through her hair. It needed to be cut, he thought, which was unfortunate as its unruliness became her.

"What rude viper has burrowed into your thoughts this time?" he asked her. "You look sour and... and almost frightened, what is wrong? Is it time for our bi-weekly misunderstanding? Are they misunderstandings or arguments? Hmm."

"The tattoo," she muttered, looking at a small mirror in the room but not moving to approach it or remove her armor.

"What of it? Does it displease you?" he wondered. "I... You must forgive me that words still tend to go in circles... Could you be more specific before my mind starts roving?"

Aegis shook her head, lowering her gaze to the floor and thinking hard. "It didn't occur to me till I heard the words out loud... Until I heard Xan and Branwen suggest you might once have been a _cleric_... And realized the divine half of the sigil might be tied into my own blood..."

Xzar frowned, perking up suddenly. All warmth and comfort left his face in a rush, replaced by a haunted tenseness. "Ae... Aegis..." Bi-weeky misunderstanding indeed. Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn...

She gave him a long and measured look. "They were wondering if I thought it was possible... so I mentioned it would have been easy for you to have been a cleric of _Bane_, the old Zhentarim patron. Except... obviously the religious tenants don't match you even remotely. They took it at face value, though Oghma surely damns me for for the dception."_  
_

The necromancer stared at her, slowly lifting his fingers to his face and biting one tight between his teeth in agitation. "D-don't," he protested, not certain he could take another round of memories and helpless desperation so soon after the last.

Aegis watched him for a moment and then looked out at nothing.

"Just two more nights. Two more nights. _Moaratuk_, don't ask. I won't... I don't know if I will have the words to calm you. I can't- I do not hold together very well, and I have been incredibly lucky of late..."

"Since when does a wizard get so excited about changing gods?" Aegis wondered aloud despite his pleas. "Since when does a mercenary care who he serves? The tight leash you described; the reason you've mentioned Darkhold which is under Cyrite control, but yet clearly hate Cyric; the way you refer to Cyrites as rabbits as if you'd been forced to make up another name for them, just so you could curse them while walking among them; the slaughter you admitted to; your madness; your story about the return of the spellbook; your admission that you'd been able to practice necromancy freely without consequences..."

"Little Death," he protested, stepped towards her and lifting up his hands to touch her, as if he could stave off her realization and the accompanying accusations that were sure to follow. Aegis frowned at him and stood back another step as if slightly spooked. She wanted to have this conversation, and she would force it to occur.

"You recognized me for a child of Murder. Almost immediately. How could _anyone_ or anything have recognize me? Just because you studied necromancy? No, I took all that for granted, but I don't smell different and I don't _sound_ different, and there's nothing to recognize at all. I don't rage more than Minsc, or love killing more than Montaron. I don't ooze negative energy or carry an unnerving aura, but somehow you _knew_. You _knew_ what I was from the day you met me," she established the evidence quietly.

Xzar dared to try and step closer still, hands raised out to her, green eyes locked on her face as he subtly shook his head. "No, Little Death, I but tasted the ghost of it. I was too broken. I knew soon enough, but not as soon as that, and-!"

Aegis stepped back from him again. "And why did I tolerate you or coddle you? Why was I ever even _attracted_ to you? And the converse, you... you hated to be touched. Why did you come to me in Beregost? Why did you _want_ me, and why did you let me near you? Why would you possibly trust something _more_ because you sensed it was a child of _Death?"_

_"Aegis!"_ the necromancer pleaded, lunging forward to cross the distance between them and grabbing at her shoulders. She lifted her hands reflexively, snatching his wrists so that he could not do so. "Let me speak, _saidulk byatskhan Moaratuk_, I am not-!"

"You knew because you _were_- no, you _still are-_ a cleric of Bhaal," she told him in a low voice. "You recognized me, you are with me, you are desperate to keep following me, you are protecting me, you are hiding me from your Cyrite superiors... and you- you- you l_ove_ me- because I am a leftover _chunk_ of your _god._"

The necromancer twisted free of her grasp, lifting his hands and snatching her face between both palms. He couldn't help the painted smile which twisted his face into a mockery of concern, but his green eyes were wide and bright with fevered intensity against the dark paint of the harlequin mask. She had thoroughly unnerved him. "No," he told her desperately.

"Xzar," she hissed, squeezing his arms tightly to make him back off.

"There are _hundreds_ of you, if not _thousands_," he snarled, angry and frightened. "Why would I voluntarily pick the _one_ who refuses her father? Do you somehow think I ever bedded my deity?"

Startled by this, she released him. At that moment he kissed her fiercely, pulling her head into it so she could not escape. The warmth of his skin, his breath on her face, the taste of him; these things were not terrifying, magical, or divine. She lost her train of thought, lulled to calm stupidity by the touch of a man. Somewhere in the back of her skull, she vaguely realized she was being embraced by the same violently focused splinter she'd encountered down in the caves. She wondered if this was what Xzar ought to have been like, or if this was just one more carnival mirror out of thousands. It was a huge leap from the relatively stable personality she'd been seeing over the last few days.

When he released the kiss, his lips hovered near her face, whispering softly in a myriad of languages. The _smell_ of him was intoxicating. He kissed her mouth again, briefly, and her chin. The harlequin mask seemed more ironic than terrifying as a thousand old stories of kings, adventure, and monsters bloomed into the empty quiet of her mind. His choice of inking made a perverse amount of sense.

A court jester's purpose was not just to entertain, but to deliver the unattractive truth to a king surrounded by simpering liars. The fool was a king's spy, ally, and confident; a character whose words were ignored, dismissed, and mocked by every mind but one. The fool was harmless lyrical nonsense; The fool was always the wisest and most loyal character in the story

His lips drifted up her cheek, touching gently over her closed eye and brushing her brow. Aegis looked at him slowly, as his fingers caressed gently over her cheek and temple. Her necromancer was watching her quietly, his eyes closed to slits but the irises a vibrant green beneath his lashes. She shook her head slowly, feeling different under that stare.

"Do you want me as a priest or as a wizard?" she asked him.

He took in a slow breath and admitted, "Both."

Was that answer satisfactory? "... _Who_ were you?"

"You do not want to _know_, Oghmite," he murmured honestly with a weak shake of his head. "Not the whole of it, anyway. I was a mystic demiurge; A _true_ necromancer. Is that sufficient for you?"

A moment passed in silence. Then she sighed and slowly sank into his shoulder. She leaned into him for once, letting him hold her. He wrapped both arms tightly around her and kissed adoringly over her hair. He held her for a very long time, doting and rocking gently, fingers tight against her.

"Do not die," he pleaded the immense blasphemy at long last, resting his chin atop her head and closing his eyes as if in in pain. She nuzzled quietly into his collar, and he sighed, his arms tightening briefly. Her intimacy was always such sweet agony. "Do not die."

* * *

"After some evaluation, I've decided it was silly to think I was attracted to death magic. I clearly just find you incredible." Xzar looked lazily over at her, brushing graham hair out of his face with his forearm. The hour was late and the sheets were hopelessly tangled, but his lover was a veritable furnace as she sidled up against him.

"Well that's a relief," he hummed. "I have a monopoly on me's, I'm sure of it. I've at least twenty of them! But with all the lich-lords out there, I'm certain you could find a better necromancer..."

Aegis grimaced in surprised laughter. "Oh _yuck_, Xzar!"

"Come to think of it, I should hate to compete with Velsharoon and Szass Tam for your affection on the basis of magical aptitude, as I'm rather sure I could only win a _literal_ cock waving contest in that arena. Nothing works quite right as a lich, you know. Not even with magic..."

Aegis broke out in a loud guffaw, surprised by such humor from Xzar. He blushed a little, and the sight of it immediately set renewed passion soaring through her. She lifted her head to kiss that painted mouth. Her fingers ran gently along the edge of his cheek, tracing along the curve of the harlequin smile. He trembled slightly, seeming to find the attention psychologically erotic. Still kissing him, she slid her hand down his chest towards his hips.

"Ach-" he protested, snatching her hand and laughing. "Haha! Let the Red Wizard make his boasts, I know when I've worn out _my_ stamina," he teased, running a palm along her belly. "You may, however, borrow as much of my _agility_ as you have need of, Insatiable One..."

She smirked and kissed his chin. "I think maybe we should actually talk a bit."

He blinked in surprise and nodded, withdrawing his hand. "Then be gentle with me," he pleaded. "Given the topic we ended on, I am not certain I have another ace to cast at you. I may begin ranting, and asking you why a raven is like a writing desk, how the excess water from thirty thousand years of raining has not flooded Faerun- it must get back in the air somehow!-, and why cats stare at blank walls for hours on end..."

"No, this isn't one of those difficult- Okay, I _have_ been wondering about the cat thing. You've owned a cat?"

Xzar grew quiet, thinking about the prompt.

"I kept cats. Two dozen," Aegis explained her curiousity to him as gently as she could. "We always had a vermin problem at Candlekeep, and if we weren't careful they could do serious harm to the books. I raised and trained the mousers because no one else could do it. I miss them a lot. And my old room. My home. My father. The cats used to all sleep on top of me. Urso's my buddy, but he prefers to stay out in the woods at night."

"Her name was Lady," he said softly, his brows furrowed together in concentration and his eyes half lidded. "Just _Lady_. She was a calico, I think, with two rows of big black and red spots down her back, and colored socks. A large cat, maybe... three feet long? A... a coon cat, or forest cat, maybe. Long hair."

"Did you just outlive her?" Aegis queried sympathetically.

"No. She became my familiar," he supplied in a quiet voice.

Aegis was quiet for a moment, watching his face. He was somewhere else, but at least it was someplace nostalgic instead of frightened. Still she ought to change the subject before their luck worsened. "I've actually been meaning to tell you about something," she said slowly, taking in a deep breath and then gently cupping one of his hands and lifting it up so he could see. "I had another dream."

His gaze jerked up when she summoned forth positive energy between her fingertips and over his palm. He stared for a moment, entranced. So close to her, the energy stirred cobwebs and dust in long-dead parts of himself, like a trickle of wind. It made his body tingle where he was touching her. The magic seemed to channel partially through him, and a sensation of pleasure largely unrelated to sex blossomed through his core.

"That... is _not_..." he murmured, turning his fingers slightly in the white radiance. He... he almost felt as if he could... _No_, it would be silly to try. He enjoyed the sensation for what it was worth for several moments, astounded that they should be cupping positive energy instead of negative. Then he turned a delighted gaze down to her. "Well, well, Nature Childe... I think you should tell me your dream, immediately. We have fun mysteries to unravel."

* * *

This backstory was initially sparked by the popularity of dual-classing Xzar to a cleric among those players who keep him throughout the game.


	9. Ho There Wanderers

Today we take a break from our FFFF to indicate that time has passed! Well, also, because we don't want to entangle the past with the present in this particular chapter...

* * *

There was, as it turned out, plenty of work to do in Beregost. People's boots, swords, cloaks, and all sorts of other amusing possessions were missing owed to bandits; a house was overwhelmed with spiders; and people in the Friendly Arm Inn were requesting deliveries.

Unfortunately, however, there was no sign of the bandit contact, Tranzig. He was due in Beregost at Feldepost's Inn that very day, but there was every possibility he'd managed to run into the stories of the _Heroes of Nashkel_ before arriving, and decided to lay low rather than make the rendezvous. Aegis, Xan, Branwen, and Ajantis scoped out all four of the city's inn's to no avail. As Branwen was the only one who knew what he looked like, she decided to stake out the inn in case he was using an assumed name. She promised Aegis not to act alone, and Ajantis volunteered to stay with her so quickly that Xan didn't get a word in.

The enchanter watched them head into the inn with irritation, and then turned a tolerant gaze up to Aegis. The ranger shrugged and gestured that they should walk back to the inn. "So, that look you just gave Ajantis," Aegis said slowly, "that's more like how Imoen feels about Xzar than actual jealousy, right?"

The elf looked at her in surprise and then looked back at their path to think about the question. "I don't have a high opinion of white knights," Xan admitted. "But she is free to do what she wishes, and I admit they share similar interests. Far be it from me to say anything."

The ranger grinned. "Admit it, you sort of miss the attention," she teased.

The enchanter smiled softly. "Perhaps a bit. She is a good friend." [You are fluent in elvish?]

[Imoen and I both,] she agreed. [It was the only language we were both interested in learning. Aside from Thorasta, of course.]

[Indulge an enchanter his native tongue. Tell me how you came to be interested in the language of the fair folk.]

* * *

Two sets of hoods, one purple and one red, had finally made their way out of their bedroom and into the inn common space when Aegis and Xan arrived. The ranger looked down at the both of them with a raised brow and crossed arms. They were each nearly dead on their feet. Then she noticed the infernal bat as it climbed out form Imoen's hood and stretched out its wings.

"Did the bat accompany you on your late-night shenanigans?" she asked acidly.

Imoen laughed. "No! Familiars are telepathic. Do you think the Red Wizard wants to hear his familiar chattering about the sexual prowess of any man other than himself?" the thief whispered back with a grin. "I think it might give him indigestion." She gave a big stretch and a sleepy yawn. "Ohhhhh. What _time_ is it?"

"If the food being served is any indication... noon?" the Thayvian muttered, exhausted and scratching at a now improperly maintained goatee.

"Well, it is becoming abundantly clear why the two of you have picked each other as roommates," Aegis decided. "You're clearly both _idiots, _and you belong grouped together. Maybe it'll minimize the collateral damage._"_

"I resent any slight on my intelligence," Edwin told her without any of his usual fire. "However, I am open to considering any adjustment to our bet that will ensure we sleep at night."

"Speaking of which I need some coffee or I am going to pass out..." Imoen giggled, heading towards the bar.

"Pah. You call that bitter, smokey, bean juice proper coffee?" her companion sneered.

"What? Ha! Hey, ain't my fault if _somebody_ doesn't like good coffee, ya knows. Don't worry! We'll put lots of milk and sugar in yours. Bartender! The Thayvian wants milky, weak coffee!"

He grumbled but didn't have the strength to decide what precise form of offended he was. He glanced at Aegis and blinked sleepily. "Did you two switch lovers?" he asked at last.

"Branwen's staking out the inn Tranzig's supposed to show at. Xzar's with Dynaheir, Viconia, and Minsc, shopping," she answered. "Xan and I are going to meet up with them at the Thunderhammer Smithy. You can join us when you're done with breakfast if you want."

"Waste of my time," he muttered. "What need have I for armor and swords?"

"Excuse me?" asked a woman, striding up to them in Flaming Fist colors. Xan steeled himself to throw a quick charm, but it appeared this woman was not there to arrest them for sheltering a drow. "Greetings. I hear you are the Heroes of Nashkel? My name is Officer Vai. I am paying adventurers for bandit scalps, and your name was passed to me by the Nashkel Mayor."

"Ghastkill?" Aegis asked a little awkwardly, because the sight of the commander of all Beregost's Fist mercenaries had also put her heart to racing.

"He also has message for you," Vai told them. "He asks you make time to deliver a sample of the iron poison you carry to the wizard Thalantyr dwelling at High Hedge, which from here is a short distance east. He says the mage has agreed to look into it for him, and suggests that you might be able to convince him to sell you some magical items. If you have need of me, I will be staying here at the Juggler."

"Yeah, ah, we were just going to pick up some gear and coin and head to the Smithy..." Aegis said a little too loudly. "So... we're just going to do that..."

"Of course," the woman murmured gravely, and then went to get herself a meal. Xan, Edwin, and Aegis exchanged slightly nervous looks. The elf cleared his throat.

"I shall work doubly hard on my illusions each morning," he assured them. "But we may want to move to the Burning Wizard..."

"I second this plan," Aegis agreed. "Also, we might not want to spend all of our money at the smithy. Magical gear is usually expensive..."

Edwin thought about this for a moment. "Excuse me, I need to go manipulate a thief concerning the robbery and subsequent pawning of an entire carnival..." he muttered, and then went over to enjoy his milky, weak coffee. He did not, however, put any sugar in it. Sugar was for purple children, and not for wizards of Thay.

"Well, it's good to see he's definitely getting along with _someone_. No matter how stupid they are being. Let me grab some stuff. I want you to have the group purse. And my purse, actually," Aegis explained, gesturing for Xan to follow her back to their rooms for a moment. "Well, the _known_ quantity of the group purse which hasn't somehow ended up belonging to Imoen..."

"Why is that?" Xan asked, following her.

"Because when we go into that smithy, it is your job to play devil's advocate," Aegis explained. "I will want to buy every last shiny object in there. I shall instantaneously dissolve to Minsc's intelligence level."

"I see," he realized. "I shall try to be worthy of my post as your surrogate Jaheira."

* * *

Aegis was staring like a little girl at a toy shop window. Taerom Fuiruim, the proprietor, was watching her with a craftsman's eye and smirking at her enthusiasm. "Ye like it, lass, admit it," he laughed. "And ye have the coin for it, I can see it in your eyes!"

Aegis looked back at her group bashfully. Minsc gave her a look of complete sympathy which told her if he'd been in her position he would have bought the item in a heartbeat. Dynaheir was restraining a smile while Xzar was giggling openly. Xan sighed.

"Remind me, Taerom," the morose elf asked, "how much is a breastplate?"

"Six hundred gold. Discounted for the heroes of Nashkel? Four fifty." Edwin and Imoen had finally caught up with the group, both still looking slightly disheveled. The Thayan was irritably combing his hair with his fingers.

"And the cost of the suit of _full_ plate mail that our valiant leader is drooling over?" Xan asked.

"That'll be nine thousand. Discounted to seventy two hundred for ye good folk."

"It's so _beautiful_," Aegis pleaded with Xan, who sighed.

"It does look very good!" Garrick piped up. "And incredibly, _heroically_ shiny!" Minsc grinned at the bard in agreement. "Will it hold up against the iron crisis?"

"Sure will," Taerom told them. "Mastwork quality and a minor enchantment against rust does the trick just right."

"You already need a real battleaxe instead of the _hatchet_ you are using," Xan told her with surprising sternness. "And you came in here to buy an enchanted axe. Adding full plate puts you incredibly outside of your budget."

"She can have my cut of the loot," Xzar giggled.

"And mine!" Imoen volunteered, because she already had an utterly independent loot to draw coin from.

"Buy it," Edwin agreed, earning a surprised glance from most of the group. "What? Is the idea that we need a well-padded meat shield too much for your tiny brains to comprehend?" he asked, smoothing his hair back and then lifting the hood back into place. "Besides, she tends to throw herself stupidly into battle, shrieking about allergies, drawing all this attention... Was she not the one I used for my brilliant water cave plan? Exactly. In fact, can we get her a tower shield to go with it? Something ridiculously and incredibly big. Like a door. Blacksmith, do you have any door-sized shields?"

"Well..."

"She is a very big girl," Edwin assured. "_Too_ big. More like a man, really. An orc man. She can handle it. But really, you should consider going down to sixty-five hundred. Considering the trouble with bandits is keeping you from getting any clean ore from Baldur's Gate, and we are planning a raid."

The blacksmith just grinned, because it was no use trying to haggle a figure when a sale was already as good as made. "I'll consider it _after _ye've dealt with the bandits," he laughed.

"I see why I was needed earlier," the Thayvian muttered. "Deprivation of my presence for fifteen minutes is clearly too much for you fools to handle if it managed to lose you a thousand gold in the otherwise safe walls of a backwater village..."

"Alright," the enchanter sighed dramatically. "We shall let her buy it. If this is the will of the group?" Nods all around. Edwin was right. Aegis was their central hub, their most-oft injured member, and the group's primary means of drawing attention away from its wizards. Even with Minsc and two clerics on the team, armoring Aegis to the nines was going to have a significant impact on group performance.

"Squee!" Aegis shrieked in delight. "I want it! I want it, I will buy it! Xan! Give the man his money!"

"Yes yes yes," the elf muttered, coming up with the fund she'd entrusted him with.

* * *

They spent an hour browsing the smithy's wares as the blacksmith and his helpers armored Aegis up in the set of shining full plate and then took careful measurements for how to refit it for maximum comfort and utility. The armor would be ready to pick up in two days, he assured them, after they had time to deal with a number of other orders. He apologized for the delay. Edwin quipped something about breasts and half-ogres. Xzar murmured to Aegis that the actual problem was likely that her exact torso measurements were a little off for a human figure.

As they pooled together their resources, they came to tabulate a finalized figure for upgrading the party's armor and arms to a more heroic level. Minsc's gear was of primary concern after Aegis' and he required a proper magical weapon the same as she did. Branwen's innate ability to call on a hammer of Tempus whenever she wished made an upgrade on her end unnecessary, but they wanted to buy Viconia a better mace. Both Branwen and Minsc had expressed interest in at least a normal breastplate. Given that he was heading north alone and the roads were no better now than they ever had been, the group also made sure to fit Garrick with enchanted leathers and buy him a better crossbow.

Although the trip to the smithy was ultimately successful, one thing was for certain: if they planned on getting their hands on the absolute best gear they could for the bandit camp, they were going to need to need to run a few odd jobs. Such was the lot of adventurers.

Edwin supervised Imoen as the girl worked with one of Taerom's assistants. She had an incredible quantity of gear to pawn, and he was quite the haggler. Besides, he wanted to know just exactly what kind of figure she was counting up, as well as where the split rested between party assets and Imoen's assets.

They had finished the majority of their shopping and were waiting on the assistants to finish fitting Minsc for plate when Edwin spied the dark black leathers resting comfortably in the corner of the shop. He nudged Imoen, who regarded the garment curiously and then questioned the assistants on it. It was called Shadow Armor, she learned. It was also the most expensive item in the shop, and one of Taerom's finest creations. At its discounted price, it was twelve thousand and six hundred gold.

Imoen had never heard of such a high sum for one item. She came over to have a look at this fabled armor, and then quickly realized she was looking at a treasure. Running her fingers over the black leather, she looked quietly down at the outfit as if taunted by it. Edwin leaned close to her. {Do you need an invisibility spell tonight, little waif?} he asked her.

{But...} Imoen protested.

Edwin scowled. {You who just offloaded that little treasure hoard of yours on these merchants... you are going to tell me that you think stealing this overpriced jerkin is wrong?}

{Well, not exactly. But I'd never be able to wear it in the city, and I usually try not to steal things people really value unless they're jerks...} Imoen told him, looking down at the currency she'd carefully earned.

{... It is your money, fool. You can waste it however you wish. Though I will respect you more if you utilize your talents and gold both to maximize your net benefit.}

{Maybe...} she hesitated. {Let's see what cool enchanted things this wizard at High Hedge has first so I know where's best to put my coin} she decided. {And then if I do need to... _borrow_ some armor...I can always do so just before we leave for the bandit camp.}

The Thayvian smiled.

{Oh do not look so smug, I was evil long before you came along,} Imoen giggled. {And do not worry, I will be your sugar mamma at High Hedge and spot you a few scrolls, pauper boy.}

An alarmed look came over his face and he stood up straight, hissing at her at her in disgust. He made to smack her upside the head, but she ducked under the off-handed swipe. {Witch!} That got Dynaheir's attention, but he wasn't referencing her. {Witch!}

{I'm sorry!} Imoen laughed, ducking out of the smithy. {I recant! I recant!}

* * *

The party planned to split up up as they left the Thunderhammer Smithy, but before they could get more than a few yards from the door a familiar old man in soft red clothing approached them. "Ho there, wanderers!" he called. "Stay thy course and indulge an old man!"

"Oh," Aegis uttered in surprised recognition, because she had not seen this unusual character since very early on in her journey and to be honest she had entirely forgotten about him.

"Hey, it's that traveler we met coming off the Lion's Way," Imoen noted.

Xzar looked up and then went stiff. A hiss escaped his mouth and he stepped quickly beside Aegis, clutching at her back and shoulders. She looked at him in surprise, vaguely recalling he might have done something similar the _last_ time they'd met this old man. Only, back then, Aegis hadn't paid much thought to it.

"I see you have come a long way since we last parted," the old man chuckled, looking around at the sizable group as he reached them. Another man was with him ths time, dressed in heavy robes of Illmater with the hood pulled down low. He had a band around his arm marked with a seal and, upon seeing it, Edwin immediately backed away.

"What's up?" Imoen asked.

"It's a mark of a leper," the Thayvian answered. "A flesh-eating sickness. Only contagious to a chosen few, but nearly impossible to cure if ever contracted." Imoen grimaced and backed up a respectful step.

The old man laughed. "Ah, do not mind my dear friend here. We are heading north to Baldur's Gate where we expect he will be able to find treatment. You will forgive him that he can no longer speak. But, I have heard you are the party they are calling the Heroes of Nashkel! Imagine my surprise to see the two young ladies I met on the road to Candlekeep. How fare you, then?"

{He looks familiar,} Imoen whispered suddenly. {The man in red.}

{Apparently you have met him before,} Edwin muttered as if she were stupid.

{No, I mean, like from somewhere else, even, other than that. That is odd of me to say, is it not? I do not remember ever meeting him at Candlekeep before, so he could not have been a regular. I cannot put my thumb on it. Maybe I have never met him. His face is not _quite_ familiar, but something...}

"We are... well enough," Aegis observed, surprised by the old man's innocent attention and a little wary of his intentions. She glanced at the leper and furrowed her brow for a moment, but then looked back at the wizard. For the life of her, she could not even remember much about their last conversation except that he had been strangely curious and cryptic. She had been as polite as possible given her slightly dazed circumstances; Her father had died fairly recently at that point. "We're hunting down the bandit camp."

"Ah, then thou would do well to be careful," the man remarked sagely. "It is good you have a large party. There may be more going on behind the scenes than meets the eye, though surely you know this already. Thy new reputation may draw allies, but you have no doubt attracted all sorts of unsavory attention from the men you are hunting." He paused and sized her up, stroking his beard. "You seem the type of girl who warms to challenge, however. I foresee you may indeed be quite capable of the tasks set before thee."

"We're currently trying to find a bandit contact named Tranzig," Aegis offered, surprising the group with her forwardness. "But not having much luck."

"Tranzig? Hmm. Ha! I do not know a mage using that name, but I suspect the unsavory fellow you are looking for may be hiding at the Read Sheaf. Yes, there was something not quite right about him... Be careful; he's been asking around about you."

"And who are you, old windbag, to know _so much_ of the going-ons behind the scenes of bandit camps?" Edwin drawled. "And if you are _so_ informed, why do you do nothing about it yourself and instead run about the streets pestering children?"

Xzar whirled about and gave Edwin a positively scandalized look as Imoen elbowed The Red Wizard in the ribs with a, "Be nice."

"What?" Edwin asked irritably. "Is it so strange to question the prophetic sooths of random vagabonds we pass on the streets? Shall we council bums for their tactical advice next and learn spellwork from drunken stable hands? It is a valid question: Who are you, old man, that we should stand around here listening to this prattle a moment longer?"

The traveler had leaned heavily on his staff mid-rant and was now watching the Red Wizard with a knowing twinkle in his eye that suggested he was so far beyond amused and chagrined that he knew not whether to laugh or cry.

Xzar cocked his head to the side in disbelief. "He... is... _Elminster_**_ Aumar_**..." the necromancer said slowly and with great emphasis on each word, lest Edwin somehow miss them. The Red Wizard laughed derisively at what he perceived to be a raving. Aegis looked at the Zhent, noticed the defensive way he was hidden behind her, and then turned and looked in surprise at the red-robed mage.

Imoen's jaw dropped. "Oh sweet Oghma," she breathed. "You are. You are! I knew I recognized you! You _are_ Elminster!" she gushed. Aegis nodded in amazed agreement.

"It is a delight to be informed at last of who I am," the old man sighed. "Though now I think I am in terrible need of a good, choice wine. Two children from Candlekeep, a Greycloak, and the only one to recognize me has a strong Moonsea accent. Alas, soon I shall only be recognizable as a Bogey instead of a Man... Woe that day..."

Imoen squealed, and then the party was treated to the sight of her scrambling forward and pouncing the surprised wizard, hugging the flustered man as if he were a favorite uncle. "You are my _hero_!" she exclaimed, while Edwin stared on dumbfounded.

The archmagi lifted a brow. "Your _unrecognizable_ hero?" he chortled.

"I'm _so sorry!_" Imoen wailed. "It was the context! It was a highly unexpected context! And every picture I've ever seen of you, you were younger! Forgive meee!"

Aegis slapped a hand over her face. Xzar gaped. Edwin looked horrified, disgusted, incredulous, and most definitely not intimidated, awed, or humiliated! He sneered almost as much at Imoen as at Elminster. Viconia was puzzled as to who this was and why she ought to care, but most of the other party members came closer in surprise to greet the archmagi.

Aegis was just about to step forward and say hello again herself when she felt Xzar rummaging through her pack. Glancing back at him, she held still until he drew forth a crumpled scroll and handed it to her. Aegis frowned, unraveling it only to find it was the letter she and Imoen had found on Gorion's body._  
_

Xzar unfolded himself hesitantly out to her side and then reached up between her arms to pull the scroll open further, and Aegis' memory was jarred by the sight of the illustrious red 'E' signed at the end of the missive. Her eyes widened. She glanced at Xzar, who was watching the Master Herper warily. Then she looked back to the gaggle of party members gathered close in admiration. Imoen was talking the wizard's ear off.

"You knew my father!" Aegis realized, stepping forward. "That's why you were on the road that day! you were either going to meet up with us, or you'd realized something had happened to him!"

Elminster's face sobered immediately, and he nodded. He pat Imoen on the shoulder, and she released him and backed up a few respectful steps in surprise. "Old Mr. G. knew you?" she asked him.

"Indeed, he was an old friend of myself, and of many others who Harp. His passing was mourned by more voices than you may realize."

"I..." Aegis stammered. "I never knew he... he had friends like _you_..."

"Well, no, you would not have," the red mage agreed. "After adopting you, he chose to retire and live a quieter life, and he wanted that same peace for you. He had many friends, but few could get through that fortress' doors. Those who could, he politely asked not to make courtesy calls. Though I think a few of us ignored that from time to time when we had a good excuse..."

"You wrote to warn him about something," Aegis said slowly, a little awed.

"Yes. As I am now warning you! Please take it upon yourselves to go easy on an old man's heart, and do not stumble off to the same fate! The mines, the bandits, and your foster father's murder most likely have shared origins-"

"Father," Xzar interrupted just before Aegis said something. Elminster blinked in surprise. The necromancer tilted his head to the side and, though he did not look directly at the other man, he noticed the leper jumped in response to the interruption. "It is her preference that you should refer to the dead Harper as her 'father.' She has a tendency to become cranky on that point, don't you _Byatskhan Moaratuk?_" He looked over at his lover, who was a little impressed with him. He grinned._  
_

The old man's brow furrowed. "Her _father_ had a similar aversion to the words 'foster child,' the archmagi noted, scrutinizing Xzar for a moment before looking back to Aegis. "If you are anything at all like he was as a young man, I assume my warnings with only embolden thee to even more ridiculous acts of bravery. So be it. But then, for his sake, act with prudence. No doubt there is much to uncover before you find your answers, and I am sure the adversaries you face have incredible resources."

"Well, thank you for the earth-shattering advice," Edwin observed snidely. "I suppose this is what Harpers consider to be 'helpful'?"

The archmagi chuckled. "Such company you have assembled! Let us see. I see two Rashemi, a Greycloak wielding a Moonblade, a Thayvian, a talented bard, a Mooneye, a daughter of Lolth, and I believe you are even missing a few? Tell me child, how on Faerun have you managed to put together an elf and a drow, a Red Wizard and a Wychlaran, and presumably until recently two Zhents and two Harpers?"

Aegis hesitated, suddenly feeling very protective over her entire party. She was looking at one of the most powerful persons in the whole realm, who was known not to be on good terms with numerous of the factions represented in her group. "... Carefully," she answered after a moment. "And with good alcohol."

"I can appreciate the powerful diplomatic properties of good alcohol. Well, do introduce them," the archmagi encouraged.

"Ehm... Xan, from Everska, Dynaheir and Minsc are the Rashemi, Garrick is our bard... you just met Imoen, and I can tell you this is normal for her... Um..."

"Oh don't worry Ae," Xzar tittered. "This one is half god himself and it seems today he prefers to watch. The worst fate any of us currently face is spending the rest of the day as squirrels. Well, unless Edwin throws down a gauntlet in rage back there. Edwin? Edwin _do_ introduce yourself."

"Edwin Odesseiron," the Thayvian seethed proudly. "Why are you so gleeful, necromancer?"

"I have just discovered my lover's father was secretly on speaking terms with Elminster Aumar, and you don't find that funny? I find that funny. In fact I feel a bout of hysteria coming on. Please excuse this untimely display of affection Eegee, as I attempt to anchor myself back in reality," he snorted, leaning comfortably into the ranger's side. The leper's body language was muffled by his heavy robes, but Xzar was paying close attention and could read indignant hostility immediately following use of the word 'lover.'

Elminster furrowed a curious brow at the necromancer, observing that he was most clearly wearing a Candlekeep cloak at the moment that matched Imoen's except that it sported a red lining. "Why don't you introduce yourself, Mooneye?"

"Oh? Of _course,_" the madman purred, standing up and then giving a large and ridiculously flourished bow. "I am Xzar, a humble wizard in Aegis' service."

"You were with her the last time we met," the archmagi pried. "Investigating the iron crisis to clear Zhentil Keep's name, are you?"

"Tch! These accusations!" he gasped, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest and gesturing with his hands. "First Auntie Jaheira, now you! Must I adopt a new face, new skin, and a new accent? Have you never seen a cross-cultural couple before? I knew the Thayvian was a bigot, but this is starting to get ridiculous! And to think we were just talking about inviting you to the wedding. Ae, my feelings are _very_ hurt."

"Ah. Xzar. You ehm... you _are_ a Zhent," Aegis reminded him slowly. "And an openly practicing necromancer, poisons specialist, and alchemist. And _crazy_."

"Details!" the necromancer announced with a flick of the wrist and a toss of his head. "No need to confuse the issue with facts! Technically speaking, I am also a 'Hero of Nashkel!' How many of your assassins do I have to kill before people stop fussing about an organ here or a skeleton there?"

"There were two of you before," Elminster noted, eyes twinkling curiously instead of with hostility. "What happened to your compatriot, Zhent?"

"We had philosophical differences," Xzar explained casually. "Monty's vice was greed; This wizard's must be lust; and the bounty for wrath's Death has run up into the thousands. Let's just say, I knew my craft better than he did his." Elminster frowned. "Aha, look Ae, you aren't the only one who can detangle my homonyms. Forgive me, I am getting heady. I need to step aside. If you need me, _Byatskhan Moaratuk_, your Fool will be off in that field, pushing daisies..."

"Sounds reasonable," Aegis agreed, unflustered.

Xzar leaned forward, kissed her temple with a soft, emphatic "Muah!" took note of the leper's reaction, and then floated off to quite literally pushy daisies around.

Aegis peered at the necromancer a moment. Then she looked back to Elminster. "My life is dramatic," she decided was the best explanation.

That stirred the archmagi out of his pensive silence, and he laughed and waved a hand. "You need not justify yourself to me, child. Of course as Gorion's old friend, I must let you know that your father would most certainly have disapproved. Sternly. With ice, no doubt, always did have an affection for ice spells as I recall..." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he remembered.

Aegis laughed weakly, missing her father and reaching slowly into her cloak to pull out a lock of silver hair, bound together with twine. She rubbed her thumb over it. "Jaheira made sure to do it for him. Vociferously. Though less ice." She lifted her eyes back to Elminster.

"I am surprised Khalid and Jaheira would depart thy side, though with a party so large I cannot say they left you alone. Did something happen?"

"They plan to return shortly-" Aegis began.

"The druid and our valiant leader had a bit of a dominance spat," Edwin sneered, "which peeked with Aegis threatening to pulp her skull on a rock, is that not right?"

The ranger cringed slightly. Xan, who was closest to Edwin, shot the Red Wizard a dirty look for interrupting what was essentially a personal conversation, for all that it was being held in public. "Oh _yes_, and lets not forget the highly _violent_ way in which the druid... smiled nostalgically with tears in her eyes as she left, comparing Aegis to her father and promising to return as soon as she was able..." the elf retorted. "And then the way Aegis incredibly pugnaciously... hugged them both and told them to hurry."

"Yes, well, focus on what you must," the Thayvian sniffed. "She defied authority."

"The druid defied-" Xan rubbed his face with a sigh, muttering something about idiots in elvish.

Elminster smiled knowingly. "Well, from the stories I have heard, Jaheira did have a tendency to... ah..."

"Mother?" Aegis offered. "Smother? Hit people over the head with her staff for being childish fools? Disapprove of reckless drinking?"

The wizard grinned. "Those. Exactly those."

"She's got a good heart," Aegis answered. "It was mostly Harper business that took them off. They invited me. But... Eh. I'm not sure that would be a wise move for me. I have a necromancer. And a Thayvian, and now a Drow. To look after."

"As sad as it makes me to say so, Gorion might even have supported that decision. He was known for making bizarre friends himself near the end of his career. Well, I must be on my way, and I have taken enough of your time... I bid good day to you and your party! Take care- all of you- and gods willing we may meet again some day soon. Ah! Before I forget, if you are ever in Waterdeep, girls, do make a point of visiting Blackstaff Tower. Khelben is how I met Gorion, and I think he would be delighted to see you now that you are grown. Gorion was one of his favorite apprentices."

Imoen's eyes rounded. "Mr. G. was...?"

"Yes, but absolutely do not mention you've seen me," the red-garbed wizard said with shifty eyes.

"Why... not...?"

"Because he should be incredibly jealous that I'd seen you first, that's why. I think he might not speak to me at all for years if he knew. Good day, Aegis, Imoen, and all. Good luck." He turned and headed off with the leper at his side.

Imoen hopped back and forward from foot to foot. "Oh... darn. Darn! I was hoping to talk with him more... Oh bother. Byyyyeeee!" She waved after them as they went.


	10. Reputations

We continue to take a break from FFFFs because I want to line up a big progression of them XD

* * *

"Elminster this, Elminster that, do you ever shut up? Give _me_ two thousand years and a pointy hat and I'd kick his arse!"

"He's only one thousand one hundred and fifty six!" Imoen protested with a giggle. "Maybe I should take that bet..."

Edwin gaped at her. "How... How do you...? Can you even _hear_ yourself, child, prattling on and on with these details like some lovesick puppy?"

"What? He was born in two hundred and twelve; it's now thirteen hundred and and sixty eight, it's just basic math! Besides, you know I can memorize anything. Hey, did you know that El-"

"Shut up! Shut up! You have not shut up for the past five minutes! Listening to this could drive a man to madness!"

"Well at least I'm not complaining, and whining about how awesome I am and how horrible someone else is, like some insecure little rich boy's son with no money for spells in my pockets!"

"You- you- you are _so..._ irritating!" he snarled. "I _have_ gold! I do not need your charity waif, and I think you should get over this amusing but _stupid_ little obsession with... with... where has the aggravating little monkey gone to now?" Edwin looked around himself, surprised to find that Imoen was nowhere in sight.

"She must have finally gotten bored of your voice," Xan muttered. "Took her long enough. Seldarine knows we all did a long time ago."

"You are all ungrateful sheep," the Thayvian muttered. "(And one day I shall toss whale oil over your wool and light up a match. Poof.)"

The rest of the group was discussing exactly who ought to go where and do what. Dynaheir reminded Aegis that they had Basillius's symbol to bring to the Song of the Morning Temple, a task which she had nearly forgotten about.

Xzar had managed to relax with a bit of dedicated coaxing, though he was still holding an armful of plucked daisies. He wanted to introduce Aegis to Kagain, but then afterward he too suggested that _some people_ needed to help tidy Xan's hair.

Garrick and Xan wanted to join Branwen and Ajantis to tell the war cleric about the possibility that Tranzig might be under cover at the Red Sheaf. Aegis wasn't sure she wanted everyone all spread out if they were about to confront a bandit contact.

Edwin, after carefully scrutinizing his surroundings, was quite sure Imoen had disappeared. He wondered how long it would take his mentally handicapped band of chimpanzees to realize it. Xan certainly didn't seem to think she'd gone anywhere further than a few feet away, and his attention was focused elsewhere.

He tried to decide if he was concerned, or irritated that she'd left him there mid-sentence. After a moment, he realized his familiar would alert him if there was a serious problem; so he settled for being bitter.

* * *

Imoen managed to catch sight of the her mark leaving an alleyway as he strolled at a loping pace down the street. There seemed to be something on his mind that was distracting him, and she could see that he was at least temporarily alone. Perhaps there was some errand he had forgotten to run prior to leaving the city. She ghosted after him with the maximum application of her ability, patting the bat on her shoulder as she moved.

Perhaps intrigued by her intentions, the fiendish little monster behaved himself.

She stole through the crowd, keeping her head low as she ducked and wove. He was quick, she realized with a surprised furrow of her brow. And somehow she kept losing track of him, despite the color of his clothing. She wondered if the man might have some enchantment about himself that turned aside wandering gazes. Surely that must have made it easier for him to travel through any part of the world that pleased him without being swamped by curious children or tracked by unsavory eyes.

The hat! It was easier to keep track of the hat than anything else, and that was all for the better; because it was the hat she was after.

His movement patterns didn't shift, but she felt the change almost instinctively. Perhaps it was the way the commoners suddenly seemed to stop walking directly in her path, or the food cart which pulled out in front of her, and which she was forced to quickly duck around lest she lose sight of her quarry. She was getting better at following now; at seeing through whatever vague illusion or suggestion he was emitting. Such subtle magic...

When he turned down an alleyway she bolted after him, muttering words in draconic under her breath. The bat squeaked in surprise. Rounding the corner, Imoen found the alleyway to be an empty dead end, but this hardly stopped her. Assuming the man was not so silly as to waste his highest level abilities on her, and that a dimension door would have left a visible portal behind even if just for a moment, the easiest spell for him was invisibility.

"_Viiz do krein nos!" _she hissed, and brilliant golden dust rippled about her in a burst. The bat shrieked in warning almost concurrently with the instant Imoen felt the danger coming up behind her. She leaped to the side as a red orb crashed into the ground behind her, but another one followed immediately after! She swayed to her left, to the other right, but more came! She jumped, rebounded off the alleyway with a foot and then-

"Oh, poopy face!" the thief shouted as the upteenth red globe encased her, trapping her against the ground. A staff scraped against stone and then the butt settled down against the cobbles only a foot from her face. Imoen lifted her head up to see the Chosen of Mystra standing there, irritably looking at his shoulder as he brushed glitterdust off of himself. He glanced at her and gave a flick of his hand. The red orb hoisted her weightlessly off the ground, and her hair floated slightly up about her face.

"You are _not_ a mage," Elminster noted curiously.

"Nope!" the thief giggled, waggling her arms in the air for balance. This was sort of neat, actually.

"Yet you used no wand or scroll," he concluded, his brows furrowing.

"Nadda!" she agreed, spinning her arms in circles and slowly rotating in midair until she was upside down and facing him.

"Well come now, do not leave me to this mystery," he told her. "Who has been tutoring you in magic?"

"No one!" she laughed, enjoying her new vantage point.

"Ask any monk at Candlkeep about Imoen the Pink, and they shall inform you she has no head for the art of magic, as she possesses neither the patience nor the interest. Are there signs of her being half kender? Most certainly. But of magical aptitude? No, none."

"Well, let me ask you a question," Imoen drawled. "Do you think I had less patience for magic, or less patience for smelly old monks who tried to tell me when I had to study and when I could go out and play?"

Elminster propped up his hat with his staff, looking her over with curiosity and perhaps a bit of mischievous sympathy. "_Glitterdust_ is no mere cantrip," he told her, amused. "It is not even a common spell this far to the northeast."

"I'm self taught! That's why I can read draconic easy but can't cast for beans. But, hey, I got the spell out! And in leather, too, that's lucky dontcha think?" she winked. "Actually I'm surprised it worked! I've never cast it before; but since I figured you would try to give me the slip... Had to try it!"

The archmagi lifted a brow. "You managed to catch me through use of a spell you have only ever transcribed and never cast?" he asked, as such a thing should not have been readily possible. "I'm afraid I find that terribly unlikely, given that you must have prepared it just this very morning, and as you did not yet know about me you had no reason to believe you would even need such a conjuration."

"Ha! Shows what you know! I never transcribed it at all! I don't even have a spellbook!" she told him smugly.

"You prepared it from _another_ wizard's spellbook and cast it without ever practicing?" he asked dryly, amused by the tale she was weaving.

"Well technically I learned it from another wizard's spellbook, but I just 'prepared' it from memory while you were walking away, so nyah!"

"I see," he grinned. "Well if you are not inclined to give me a straight answer, what is to stop me from casting a sleep spell on you and turning your hair a ghastly shade of green for spinning me such a yarn?"

Imoen frowned. "You don't believe me?" she pouted. "You know, I had this exact conversation with Edwin, and he didn't believe me either. He had me memorize a cantrip and cast it off the cuff to prove it, and then he got really polite, which is unusual for Edwin. He said it's hard to keep... to keep a spell _unwound_ in your head. Is that true? I've always remembered everything I've understood..."

The archmagi's brows moved together, and his smile dimmed to a curious expression. "Where and when did you learn this _Glitterdust_ spell, Imoen?"

"Edwin let me look at his spellbook a few days ago. I'd glimpsed the spell before, but I didn't remember it because I'd been looking for something else entirely. Then all the sigils started making sense and standing out in my mind, and I could see how they twisted to form the spell. Like any spell, like my little light spell. And then I just... remembered it?"

He blinked in surprise. "The _Thayvian_ voluntarily loaned you his spellbook?" This story seemed suspect.

Imoen shrugged and smiled innocently. "It's kinda a long story. Technically speaking, I am pretty sure I am the closest thing Edwin has to a friend. In the world. I get the impression Thayvian nobles and other Red Wizards are just as unfriendly as he is, or worse; although I suppose you would know better than I do because you've traveled, and I lived in a library. He's not so bad, though; I like him right well enough!"

"And you just... remembered it," Elminster repeated, eyes now glowing with curiosity.

"Remembering stuff is easy once you understand it! Tethtoril taught me that about stories once: that you don't memorize the flourishes, you memorize the _point_, and the flourishes come naturally. Say! Do you think you could put me down?"

Elminster considered her for a very long moment. Then he waved, and the red orb set her down and dissipated. Imoen unsteadily regained her feet and petted the bat to calm it down. "Tell me, young one... why did you follow me?" the archmagi asked her after a moment, wearing a slowly expanding, laughing smirk.

"I am on a quest!" Imoen announced, looking up at him and putting her hands cutely behind her back.

"Oh, is that _so_?" he asked, placing a hand on his hip and favoring her with a bemused smile. "Tell me: Of what nature is this quest?"

"I am going to steal your hat before the day is out," she foresaw.

He looked doubtfulfully up at the brim and then back at her. "Ah? I hate to discourage one of such youthful exuberance, but greater than thee have tried and failed."

"Ahhh, but you seee," she drawled, hopping up to him. "The day is far from over, and you have not yet eluded me! Mark my words, Chosen, this day I shall make off with that hat! But not the pipe, I'm reasonable. You'll see!"

"And if I teleport away now?" the magi asked her grin in his eyes.

She lifted a hand and tapped his nose. Tapped his nose! What a devil child. "I don't think you _will_," the thief told him slyly.

He tilted his head to the side. "What evidence have you to support this claim?"

"I am not yet a small rodent, and you are still looking at me like I'm the most delightful little monster you've seen all decade," she told him mischievously.

The old man regarded her for a long moment before chuckling to himself and gesturing with his staff. "Walk with me, Candlekeep girl. I am curious to learn how an entire monastery of men devoted to the arts of magic managed to miss the budding Loremaster growing right under their noses."

"Loremaster?" she asked incredulously, skipping after him. "Pfft It came in jester form. They have no sense of humor. Oghma punished them for this by having it steal their wands, spellbooks, pocket money, and everyone's left shoe..."

"That may explain Ulraunt throwing a celebratory dinner commemorating your absence," the archmagi winked.

"That old stinker, he's horrible! Did he really? Liar! Say, I have a bet going with Aegis. Do you _pick_ what age you appear? Because honestly if I were going to randomly end up living forever, I would expect to look like twenty or thirty. Maybe that's a naive assumption, but why would you randomly stop aging at the rear end of the curve instead of the middle?"

The wizard lifted a brow, and then took on a shape that might have been a bit more familiar to the little bookworm, with a much shorter beard streaked in brown, and a much less wizened face. Her face lit up and she grinned. Then, because that expression was adorable, he rapidly took on several different shapes, from young and elfin, to an old, female, hobgoblin crone.

Imoen bounced and clapped delightedly, and then grabbed his arm and attached herself to it. "I knew it! I knew it! That's so cool, I wish I could do that! And you wonder why I didn't recognize you, pah! Come on, let's go get an orange juice or a water or something, it's hot out here! I will trade you question for question!"

The wizard heaved a heavy sigh, but let himself be tugged along. Truth be told, he was suppressing a grin.

* * *

When the fireball came out of the room, they realized Tranzig had anticipated them. Branwen had just enough time time to shove Xan back out of range, and then the whole party was crying out in surprise as waves of fire cascaded over them. Except Edwin. Unfazed by the flames, he was simply glad the party was too distracted to notice how he absolutely and utterly botched his first dispel attempt.

_Weave for me, please Mystra, I beg you..._ he found himself praying, which was something he never did and which made him angry, as he summoned up his second- and last remaining!- dispel an instant later. He could hear the chanting from within as Tranzig began the incantation for _Hold Person_.

If he had been feeling himself, Edwin would have tried to hold off his spell to loose it at the same time as the Hold Person, ensuring it would dispel not only the fool's magical protections but also any party paralysis. Alas, he did not have that kind of control at the moment. He was already nearly giddy that his magic had started forming correctly.

Branwen shoved forward through the flames to enter the room, a spire of white light bursting around her as she called ferocious onto her god for aid.

And that was the way they ended up 'accidentally' killing the spellcaster.

"I... ... I didn't mean ta..." Branwen stammered. "He was still protected magically and I thoug-"

"Edwin managed the dispel just as you came down on him," Dynaheir sighed. "It wasn't your fault. Or his actually."

"Truthfully it was an accident," Ajantis agreed. "Perhaps we need not rely so heavily on magic next time. Clearly it is unreliable for these sorts of tasks."

"Excuse me, where did we get this shiny-assed baboon?" Edwin asked Aegis moodily. His ecstasy over throwing out the dispel successfully had been sullied by Branwen putting her malus through the man's rib cage moments later. The ranger gave him a sympathetic look, suggesting she appreciated his quick action regardless of the unintended outcome.

"You were busy wenching," she admitted, and then looked intrigued back down at the body. "Life is so fragile sometimes... Death, so easy..."

"Are you a poet now? I'm surrounded by fools," he muttered.

"Well, got tae admit, this were unsatisfying,'" Branwen sighed down at where Viconia and Xzar were rapidly trying to resuscitate the man. Branwen had been a little too surprised to help on the onset, but now she noticed Xzar had been rather thoroughly crisped. Seeing as she wasn't sure how the two hoped to get Tranzig revived without resurrection magic, she leaned over to apply some of her healing to the necromancer.

Xzar didn't immediately thank her, mutering a 'now' to Viconia, who swiftly applied as much healing energy as she could muster. The necromancer cast something simultaneously and thrusted down with both palms on the bandit's chest.

In that moment, Aegis felt an almost butterfly-like sensation in her chest, as if she could physically sense the life they were hauling back of the precipice. It was strange to watch death go in reverse.

Then Tranzig jerked violently, his mouth opening as he struggled for breath and spit out blood.

"What the- How the devil did ye _do_ that?" Branwen wondered, fascinated. "Hold up, I've got your backs!" She knelt and quickly to offer her help in healing the bandit to full health.

"Praise be Helm for a miracle; the mission isn't lost then!"

Xzar and Viconia gave one another tolerant looks, as both individuals considered how little Helm or miracles had anything to do with their hard work.

Tranzig writhed, clawing feebly at the ground, but Branwen and Viconia dug his ribs out of his lung and managed to stabilize him.

"Grab his hands, fools!" Edwin hissed, stepping forward. "Keep from gesturing! There's precious little of significance a mage can cast without his fingers!"

Dynaheir darted forward to pin down one arm, and Xzar pinned down the other. Xan began chanting the words to a charm spell.

* * *

The party gathered around, some of them still splattered in blood and most of them singed, as Xzar and Dynaheir pulled the injured bandit mage up to his feet and then helped him onto a chair. He clutched his rib cage painfully, wincing up at all of them.

"Well, I'm impressed," Aegis told her mages and clerics. "I'll buy that Xzar knows something or another about freshly dead persons. But Viconia, how the hell did _you_ know how to revive him?"

"I have kept too many slaves on the brink of death not to understand where it lies," Viconia answered. Ajantis paused for a moment and then looked at her curiously, uncertain if he'd heard correctly or if that was supposed to be some kind of joke. "In truth, I have never executed a rescue of quite this magnitude. It seems you are not useless in every respect, madman. Perhaps we should compare... notes on the subject."

"Everyone," Xan ordered. "Be quiet for now, and do not threaten him."

Tranzig winced. "Are you going to kill me when I've told you what I know?"

Xan turned to him. "That depends how helpful you are."

"I'm charmed," he answered, which surprised Xan, as usually it was quite impossible for his targets to come to this conclusion. "I will be very helpful. But are you going to kill me?"

Xan frowned. "I am going to apply a stronger enchantment. But while I do so..." He glanced to Aegis.

"Well," The ranger hesitated, watching the bandit with wide and curious eyes, "we did just go through a hell of a lot of work to un-kill him. Is there any way we can think of to keep him alive?"

"We can hand him over to the Fist," Dynaheir offered. "But we don't have the time or resources to keep him as a personal prisoner. His magic makes him a dangerous adversary, and we can't afford him getting loose."

"The Fist? Come now, foolish Wychlaran, don't be naive," Edwin told her. "He is no mere thug. The Fist would interrogate and then execute him, much as we should. Aegis, if you keep this fool alive out of pity, my opinion of the group will drop through the floor."

"We cannot execute a prisoner!" Ajantis protested. "He is helpless, and we are not the law such as to decide such things!"

"I don't want to die," the bandit pleaded.

"No one wants to die," Edwin answered. "If a person wants to die, then they should make quick work of it, to relieve us of their moping."

"I have no god," the mage begged them, looking up at Aegis because she was the leader of the group, and at Ajantis because he was a paladin.

"Best ask one to take pity on you now," the Thayvian laughed. "Who would you like: Tempus, Helm, Oghma, or Shar? I'm sure someone here would be happy to initiate you."

"Aegis, I implore you... You are not going to execute this man, are you?" Ajantis pleaded in a reproachful voice.

"You were a Bhaalite, then," the ranger said quietly, earning her a glance from a few group mates, a surprise look from Ajantis, and a slow, long stare from Xzar. "Your god is death. Don't worry about it. You'll be fine."

Then Xan's second layer of enchantment fell over him.

* * *

"The camp is in the Woods of Sharp Teeth," Tranzig was explaining. "But it moves, and frequently. Often it shifts out into Larswold or Peldvale, or father back into the reaches of the forest. I haven't been there for months and my communications are done with magic. If you want to find the exact location, you will have to find someone who has been there more recently and can take you there."

"I am not sure I approve of this... 'compulsion magic,'" Ajantis said slowly, unnerved by how compliant their captive was being. "It has the scent of something... almost evil about it..."

Xan's left eye twitched. Her turned slowly towards the paladin with a sneer on his face. "Yes, Sir. Black-and-White? Is there something you would like to say to me?"

"No. Well... It is just that this seems highly-"

"'Tch leave him be," Branwen told the paladin dismissively. "Enchantment is a noble school of magic, and our dear friend is very careful in applying its use. Besides, the faster we find the camp, the faster we can keep the bandits from waylaying caravans, isn't that right?"

"Well... I will defer to your judgement on the matter, Miss Branwen. You have been with the group longer than I."

Xan lifted a brow at her. Branwen winked at him. The elf almost-smirked and then turned to Tranzig to question him about the camp composition.

Tranzig explained the situation, describing the different antagonistic bandit groups that had been united together under one banner: Black Talon Mercenaries, Chill Hobgoblins, Gnolls; and an impressive list of cut-throats recruited from Luskan to Calimshan.

"Who is leading this front?" Xan asked. "Tazok? Tell us about him."

"Tazok, aye," Tranzig agreed. "An unusually clever half-ogre. Has friends in high places, I think, and a powerful wizard either on call or policing him. He won't be an easy target to down. He can split a man in half from forehead to groin with a single blow of his greatsword, or tear off heads with his flail; and he's agile on his feet to boot. You best hope you don't have to face him. He's often away to supervise other operations."

"What other operations?" Aegis asked.

Tranzig shrugged. "I am a Black Talon. I am in service; I'm not near the top."

"Can you think of anything else that might help us?" Xan prompted. Tranzig considered the prompt. Then he nodded.

"There's this ranger," he said. "An elf out of Shillmista is what I've heard at the bars. He showed up some time ago on the coast and set to killing the Chill like it was a hobby. It was sort of annoying, I'm told, but he clearly had his swath of territory and if the hobgoblins had just left him alone he probably wouldn't have bothered anyone further. The stupid gobbos just kept sending in troops to deal with him, though, and then complained each time he left them pin-cushioned."

The party glanced around at itself, wondering if this was the same ranger they had heard about from the barkeep.

"Anyway, about half a month ago, the Chill was complaining so loud to Tazok that he forced us to collaborate and send some of our boys to set up a trap for this ranger. Supposedly, from the reports I was getting from the mages, they almost had him. I'm not entirely sure went wrong; but I think he had the ambush site trapped. Anyway, he slaughter our entire unit. And he must have kept alive at least one of our men for questioning because someone leaked him a name and he came back with a vengeance. He crossed the road and he's been pushing into our territory like a man possessed. The few fools he's let loose have come back to us poked full of arrows saying he's after Tazok and won't stop till the half-ogre's delivered to him.

"I don't know who this elf is, but he's gone from a thorn in our sides to a right nuisance. He might even know where the bandit camp is; and even if he doesn't, he's been skirting around the Woods of Sharp Teeth long enough now to know the paths and streams and such. If you're sure about hitting the camp, then the ranger might be a way to get there."

"That is... very thoughtful of you to suggest to us," Aegis told him slowly. "Is that all?"

Tranzig thought hard, trying to stall for time with any other information. He had none. Then he nodded. "Yeah. That's all." He looked at Branwen. "You got me back good, didn't you Norheimer? I should have killed you properly."

Branwen crossed her arms over her chest. "What ye were doing was wrong. I can support raiding armed men and fighting wars, but you were attacking defenseless people. There's no honor in that."

"Never had a use for honor," the mage answered.

"Well, the moment of truth has arrived," Edwin muttered. "Has our leader decided yet on the bandit's fate? Is she a bleeding-hearted fool or a realistic one?"

"Give him a dagger," Aegis told Xzar.

"You are _arming_ him?" Edwin asked. "Are we going to do this the paladin way and let him pretend he has a chance of fighting his way out, so we can feel good about killing him when he resists?"

Xzar obeyed Aegis unhesitatingly, drawing his dagger and extending it to the other mage. Tranzig hesitated, taking it from Xzar's hand and looking up at her uncertainly.

"You can do anything with that you want. I am going to go downstairs," Aegis explained, "and I am going to tell the Flaming Fist who you are. If you attack the rest of the party or try to flee, they are going to kill you. If you survive until the Flaming Fist arrives, you are going to be arrested. I honestly don't know what will happen to you; you could be executed, interrogated, or simply jailed. Alternatively, you can turn the dagger on yourself. Xan, release the charm."

The enchanter looked at her, perplexed. Then he nodded, murmuring in draconic.

The bandit blinked rapidly, stumbling backwards and then hesitating. He looked at the dagger and then fearfully at Aegis. "I-... I don't-" Suddenly he almost seemed to relax, his eyes glazing a little as he stared at her. So close to the moment of his death, and so close to Death, he could recognize Her. Then he took a quick breath, and before anyone could react, he brought the blade across his own throat. Aegis winced as he dropped to his knees and then his body hit the floor.

"Well," Edwin muttered. "It was unnecessarily complex and ignored that the man might have a wand, ring, or other contingency plan that could have harmed all of us. But I think I am reasonably satisfied. Of course, I would have taken you fools with me in his shoes."

"I would have accepted arrest and tried to live, like any sane person," Xan muttered.

"It was a little cowardly of him to off himself, but at least he faced reality," Branwen muttered. "He could have never beaten us in honorable combat."

"It was noble," Ajantis disagreed. "Admitting defeat and surrendering to the righteous instead of clawing tooth and nail to drag them down with him."

"Stop talking about it," Aegis muttered. "He's dead no matter what it was. Dead's dead. If you're going to do anything, take a moment of silence to respect the loss of life."

"Since he was our prisoner, lets at least do him the courtesy of burning him," Dynaheir hazarded, and Aegis nodded.

"Garrick?" the ranger tapped their bard on the shoulder. "Come with me; we need to tell the innkeep what the resolution of this was, and warn him we'll be carting a body through. Nab his Black Talon symbol so we can prove we didn't just murder some innocent person."

Xzar watched her go quietly.

* * *

In canon, there are at least a hundred years between when Viconia's house, the DeVir house, falls (Ironically destroyed by the Do'Urden family as a result of Viconia causing them to lose Lolth's favor) and the starts of the Baldur's Gate game.

Viconia doesn't necessarily tell you about it, but she's been alone for a long time. Long enough to have done a lot of things. Long enough to have gone psychotic in a way wholly individual to her ;) I like to think she spent her time underground trying to get along with the 'lesser' races until a witch hunt pushed her to the surface.

As for Imoen, doesn't one of her epilogues involve her going off to adventure with Elminster and Khelben and so forth? Heheheh! Well, clearly here is the start of that friendship XD.


	11. Cheating

It was late. Aegis was anxious, and Imoen was definitely missing. She paced back and forward, back and forward, until Edwin finally threatened to use a Hold Person spell on her and reminded her that Imoen usually went missing for whole days in the city and that no one ought to be worried. Then Aegis plopped down glumly with a tankard of ale. It was at this point she took full notice of her lover, who was leaning with his elbows on the table and his head tilted back so he could closely observe the weighted knife he was twirling between his fingers.

The ranger would have liked to have spent her last night blissfully with Xzar; one supposed conversation would have to hold her over for now. "Is that a throwing knife?" she asked.

"Yes," the necromancer agreed, passing the weapon back and forward between his long fingers.

"Can you use them?" she wondered in surprise.

He bit his lip for a moment and tilted his head to the side. "I had a memory that suggested I might," he agreed, "after I watched Nimbul use them. I picked a set up at the Smithy to see."

"And?" she asked. "Have you turned a wall of our room into a target board?"

He looked to her and smiled, snatching the knife up between two fingers and shifting about in his seat. "Give me your hand," he requested. "I remember a trick."

"A trick?" Xan asked, warning bells going off in his head. "Aegis-" But the ranger was already offering forward her hand.

"Place it flat," he told her, and reached down to spread her fingers out. Then he rested his cheek on his wrist, drew up the knife tightly in his opposite hand, and settled the point down between her pinky and ring finger.

"Oh no," Xan whimpered in horror, covering his face with both hands.

Xzar casually lifted the knife and tapped the tip between her ring and middle fingers, then middle and pointer, then pointer and thumb, then outside the circle of her hand. At this terminus he reversed direction, but each tap fell faster. And faster. Within seconds, the knife was flying rapidly from gap to gap, tapping precisely between each set of fingers in a feat Aegis might have expected from someone like Imoen or maybe even a more playful version of Montaron, but certainly not a wizard.

Xzar watched her hand as he worked. Then he languidly lifted his gaze to her and continued the trick with just his peripheral vision, a smug little devious grin on his face. Xan hadn't heard any screams of pain, so he peered curiously between his fingers. Xzar grinned. Then he stopped, catching up the knife and sitting up straight. He tossed the weapon to his other hand and then shook the dominant one free of tingles and cramps.

"Out of practice," he laughed, as Aegis cheered and applauded him.

* * *

Imoen finally showed up at the Juggler at half past eleven. Instantaneously, there was an Aegis.

"Where have you been!?" the older sister exclaimed. "You were gone all day! You just disappeared on us! Have you any idea how worried I was when I finally noticed the Thayvian wasn't joking about you being missing? I mean... true, it is sort of normal for you to disappear in the cities... But I was starting to wonder if I needed to track down the nearest Flaming Fist representative to ask if they had arrested a small, purple thief lately! What were you doing? What were you _stealing_!?"

Imoen grinned lazily up at her sister, a sleepy expression on her face. "The bestest thing ever," she answered. "Did you guys manage to get anything done?"

"Done? Done!? We rumbled Tranzig, killed him, brought him back to life, killed him again, fixed Xan's hair, wove daisies in it, sent Dynaheir and Viconia to turn in Basillius' holy symbol, recruited Kagain after a thirty second conversation that went: "Hi. We're killing bandits. We need to do odd jobs to buy gear first. Interested? Good. Tomorrow. Juggler. Bye." Then we drank, we sang, we went home happy- Are you alright? You look dazed. Are you paying any attention to me at all?"

Imoen had spied Edwin and was grinning dumbly at him where he was exercising his fingers in the corner and reading his spellbook. "I had a really, really _good_ day," the thief giggled.

Xan lifted a brow. "Is she drunk?" he asked, confused.

Aegis pouted, putting her hands on her hips. "I don't think so. Not on alcohol."

"I'm not drunk," Imoen laughed, "or high, if that's the follow up question! No sir!" Then she hopped over to the Red Wizard. "Peacock!" she called. "I have a present for you!"

Edwin lifted his gaze to her and looked her up and down. "The magical disappearing Monkey Queen returns. Had your fill of bards for the evening? Well? Why are you looking at me like that, what is it?"

Imoen grinned, slyly reaching into her cloak. "I got you that pointy hat you wanted," She told him, pulling out a carefully folded, wide-brimmed red hat. Edwin stiffened in surprise as she leaned forward and placed the hat on his head. "Ha! It doesn't suit you. Okay, hold on to it for me, will you? I can't imagine any better person than you, hahahah! Oh, and make sure to affect complete innocence about how it got here when he comes looking for it."

"You stole-" the Thayvian muttered in a strangled voice.

"Yup!" Imoen giggled. "I'm going to go take a bath for the night; don't come in without knocking if you need anything!" Then she hopped off to find their room.

Edwin continued staring dumbfounded in the same direction she'd been in only moments earlier. A long, awkward pause stretched between companions. Xan's spellbook tumbled loose from his fingers. The thud as it hit the table seemed to stirr everyone to action. "She... She stole... Elminster's _HAT_!?" the enchanter exclaimed in horrified awe. "If the Tablets of Fate go missing again, I will tell Lord Ao myself who the culprit is!"

Edwin was quiet a moment. Then he summoned his bat to himself. The familiar took a moment to detangle itself from Imoen and navigate the halls, but then it landed on the table beside him and looked up at him with a big grin on its lupine face. "Are you going to explain this to me?" he asked it.

Xzar came and fetched Aegis. Xan, who had only been waiting for Imoen's safe return, was just about ready to find his way to his bedroom when he saw Edwin stiffen and go a strange gray color. He must not have liked whatever the bat was saying, because he swiftly picked up his book, and squashed the creature flat against the table with a swift thump.

"Shut up!" he hissed angrily but also perhaps anxiously at the crumpled bat, who twitched and wiggled dazedly. "(This is our fault isn't it?) Shut up, shut up, shut up! (Should have known, our monkey, should have known!) Shut up!"

Xan lifted a brow, but said nothing.

* * *

Elminster was under a thundercloud, storming down the hallway and waving open the study door with a slam. "Gorion! You deceptive harpy of a man! What have you done!?"

"Nothing to warrant such noise," the aasimar muttered bitterly, flicking through the pages of the tome laid out before him. "Though I would understand if you thought I'd try murdering the Zhent. _Byatskhan Moaratuk_- do you know what it means?"

"I was there for the language's death!" Elminster boomed. "That is not the spawn I have come to you about now!"

The monk paused, eyes widening. What?

"Imoen!" the archmagi thundered. "You took in _two_! You reared two _together_!? Two, and you counseled no one on this! When you brought Imoen to Candlekeep, it was to procure a companion that Aegis might not be lonely; a move risky at best given how little you knew of her capacity for humanity at that time. But you brought no ordinary child! Another Bhaalspawn, Gorion! What possessed you!?

The aasimar looked up to him in surprise, his thoughts disrupted. He barely noticed Elminster was wearing an age with full hair pigment. "I-I believed it would help-" he explained. "And-"

"_Help_!?" the Chosen demanded. "Putting two children engineered to murder one another at the onset of puberty? Help _who_? Help your doomed little pet project? What about Imoen? Her taint is so fragile, so disconnected from her self that there is no doubt in my mind she was salvageable! In the care of a devoted cleric, she could be well on her way to eschewing the taint!"

"You-!" Gorion Sputtered and then his eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "No. Imoen came to Candlekeep with her rightful parental guardian, Griswold Winthrop. She is his family by blood, the daughter of his dead cousin. He begged my help in hiding her. I proposed the pairing and warned him of the dangers, and he accepted them! Now Aegis and Imoen have a powerful bond, and if you think the latter would have flourished in the care of a cleric of Lathander, you are _delusional_!"

"You were still involving yourself at that time! You spoke of withdrawing completely and yet you were still engineering events without counseling any of us! How many others do you know of? What other disastrous experiments have you attempted? You placed two Bhaalspawn children together for your own purposes, in blindness, in the throes of a terror you've mistaken for affection! Do you not remember how close you came to the edge-"

The monk balked at this. "Do you not remember what _saved_ me!?"

"Or damned you! It remains to be seen what god claimed you in the end, and as you have so keenly observed your 'child' is traveling with a possible Deathstalker!"

Gorion did not retort immediately. After a long moment, he took in a slow, steadying breath and stood up. Then he looked down at his tomes. "How did you even discover what Imoen was?" he asked slowly. "The taint was so subtle, it took an elaborate ritual for me to uncover it and confirm its existence. You saw her but an instant today, and no long range divination would have helped you pick up on the truth."

"I am more resourceful and lucky than that, it seems, as I spied the purple child on my errands. Gorion, this is not finished, you deliberately-"

"That also would not have been enough. You would have needed a direct, intimate line to her life energy, and-" Gorion paused and then cocked his head to the side to peer at Elminster.

"Gorion, you are going to answer my questions if I must geas it out of you!"

"And you, mine. First, why are you wearing a younger form? Second, where is your hat at?"

Elminster went silent, straightening up a few inches from his hostile, glowering stance.

"Thirdly..." Gorion murmured slowly, and the archmagi backed up a hesitant step at the dangerous tone in his voice. "Why do I smell lavender water as if someone had just bathed?"

Elminster blanched, lifting his hands up in innocent defense as he rapidly backed up out of the room. "G-Gorion... Eh... She was-!" the Chosen protested. It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

Ice-blue irises contracted tightly around ebon pupils. Ice split out from around where the monk was standing, and from the contact where his hand was resting on the desk. Elminster backed up and then cursed in alarm when the monk suddenly lunged at him. The former scrambled backwards and then leaned to the side as a lance of ice exploded into being through the air where he had just been. Diving away and casting rapidly, Elminster eluded another stab of ice and rolled himself behind a pillar. _Invisibility! Invisibility!_ A wintry shrapnel ball exploded into the pillar behind him and he winced slightly.

"COWARD!" the monk shrieked furiously after him as he vanished. A crackling noise came from above them and Elminster looked up to see stalactites of ice forming on the ceiling.

_Oh dear. Dimension Door!_

Elminster lunged to the side as the first massive crystal crashed down where he'd been resting. He dodged one, then another, and then ducked as another ball of icy wrath went flying in his general direction. Then the dimension door had opened, and he stepped through just before a lance slashed through the place he'd been standing.

"WHORE!" the aasimar roared to shake the temple.

Elminster reappeared safely on the opposite side of the temple, ignoring the confused Sirines. He heaved a mute sigh and winced as he dug a splinter of ice from his shoulder. The Goddess's silver flames quickly rushed up to seal his wounds. In the interest of sensitivity, it was probably best that he make a quick departure

"I AM GOING TO TAKE KELBEN'S STAFF AND SHOVE IT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS THAT YOU ARE CHEWING ON IT!"

The Chosen winced at the mental image that presented. _Time to go. Now._ He began casting a long range teleport as discretely as he could. He doubted the suggestion that Gorion might be taking out his anger at a certain Zhent would be well received at this point in time.

* * *

Edwin was the only one still in the common room. This was because, firstly, the Thayvian's head was a little too cluttered at the moment and, secondly, he wasn't going to miss the archmagi's facial expression for the world. He knew that Xzar was set to leave within an hour or two, and assumed the madman and his she-ogre would be consummating their final evening in some suitably disturbing manner. The hells only knew what passed for satisfaction with a necromancer.

In any event, he deliberatley affected nonchalance as Mystera's Chosen strode directly up to him. Elminster paused before him and held out a hand expectantly.

Edwin looked up lazily for a moment and then back down at his book. The archmagi was wearing a shape scarcely older than thirty. "It is amusing to know the great Aumar has the same base weakness for common wenches as other men."

The archmagi was in no mood to play, but he raised a brow all the same. "'Common' is not the word I would use," he asked with a slight warning tone. "You've been tutoring her, Thayvian, and surely you know that."_  
_

"Tutoring her? Hnh. A poor word for it. She's been stealing looks in the spellbooks of every mage in the group. She's a bit of a whore for wizards, it seems." The mage reached forward and picked up his wine goblet from the table, taking a drink. He did not lift his gaze from the spellbook.

Elminster's eyes narrowed slightly, curiously but also protectively. Perhaps he _had_ overstepped, but he had not done so callously. He decided to prod, wanting to see more of this viper's nest the young woman had voluntarily immersed herself. "She speaks not of other wizards. Just you; and fondly at that."

The Red Wizard perked up, and then tried exceptionally hard not to preen. Elminster just shook his head in disbelief. "Why wouldn't anyone speak glowingly of my talents? I am beyond competent as a mage. I suppose I have shown her a form of courtesy, even, although the little monkey is slightly _delusional_ at times."

"Then you have not considered apprenticing her?" Had Edwin looked up, he would have felt threatened by the condemnatory and eager expression on the archmagi's face.

"You should know my organization's restrictions on race."

"Oh, truly? Yet from what I can see of you, you are surely no full blooded Mulan either." Ediwn paused in his reading and the Chosen gave a satisfied smirk that he had hit a nerve. The Red Wizard slowly looked up to him, and no doubt he was giving his very best death glare. "I see. So, the rumors surrounding the Odesseiron family are true, then. And that would make _you_ your father's-"

"- Is this where I kill you for the glory of Thay?" Edwin muttered in a low voice. "Because if that is so, I could really use the other arm... No, no, I shall simply have to continue this lovely conversation with you at some other time; it should not be hard if I recall the great Elminster to have a weakness for plucky, eidetic whores. You do still have your spellbook, yes? I shall lift the stakes next time." He pulled the hat off from where Imoen had placed it, and tossed it carelessly to the table. "Take your pointy hat and be gone with you, then, before I sick her on you a second time. I am sure she has more potions of fortitude smuggled away in that enormous bosom of hers."

Elminster narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the younger mage. "You speak with an interesting lilt of jealousy to your tongue, like a toddler who has been forced to share his blocks. Well, if you do not appreciate her talents enough to tutor her, then perhaps I should make an offer to her. The Goddess may have me very busy of late, but when things calm down in a year or two... well there are not many potential apprentices who catch my attention like she just has. "

Edwin's lip curled in a sneer. "Keep your paws off of my monkey," he answered irritably. "As much as it vexes me to say so, in two years you are going to be sorely disappointed in the color of red which she prefers. She cannot be a Red Wizard of Thay; that does not mean she is available, no matter how you have misdiagnosed her _friendliness._"

"I am sure you will admit I can be much more persuasive than you can," the Chosen noted smugly, which ought to have been incredibly obvious. The Red Wizard clearly had little regard for his companion's well-being and had just referred to her as a delusional monkey.

"That is _delightful_. You know, as much as I am sure you could spin a riveting tale of your sexual exploits, do pass up the opportunity. She has _specifically_ mentioned she does not intend on having a relationship with anyone she sleeps with, or on sleeping with anyone with whom she has any form of relationship." He turned his gaze back to his spellbook with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Which means you are now blacklisted, if I understand her girlish blabber correctly."

Elminster was mostly surprised by the fact that the Thayvian appeared to be on friendly terms with anyone such that they shared gossip or intimate thoughts with him, and so was silent for a moment.

"The truth of the matter remains: you are going to do absolutely nothing to help while her sister is in mortal peril, and I am here launching the fireballs in the mud (much as I might find it distasteful...) So if you think you know what motivates her, that only proves you have not yet transcended into omniscience. (And that even I can occasionally read people. Fancy that.) Now get out."

Elminster placed his hat back on his head, eyeing the Thayvian almost curiously. "Then you _are_ going to tutor her?"

"Go have tea with gods, invent spells, or do whatever super important, Harper business it is you attend to when you are not busy seducing nineteen-year-old girls. Lest I find one of Gorion's living family members who, despite being bereft of ice, has at least good axe with which to _strongly disapprove_ on his behalf."

Hardly daring to believe he'd just been chastised in such a manner by a Thayvian, of all people, and somewhat confused about where such insight had come from, the Chosen merely regarded Edwin with a perplexed expression for a few seconds. Then, a little amused and perhaps still slightly apologetic to Gorion alone, he conjured up a folded paper dragon and settled it neatly outside of the Thayan's vision.

"I did not intend harm onto her," he said, which was as close to yielding as he knew how in this context. Then he turned and walked away, unable to repress a bemused smile. Edwin had clearly cheated, and Elminster had already been knocked down a notch by Gorion, but it was good to know youngsters could still beat him every now and then; especially when he maybe, possibly deserved it. _And today involved three such beatings..._

Edwin waited till he was _sure_ the man was gone, and then several minutes longer even after that. Then he lifted his gaze and glanced off after the departed Chosen. He tapped his nails lightly against his spellbook, and then reached down into his lap and pulled out the empty vials that had contained the potions of Insight, Mind Focusing, and Genius he'd poured into his wine goblet. _  
_

"Sometimes I impress even myself," he muttered aloud. "(Though I think this is one trick I will not be caught dead bragging about...)"

* * *

Edwin spied the paper dragon when he stood up to head off to bed a good few cups of wine later and frowned in annoyance. Was that supposed to be a joke? He plucked the little creation up, remembering something or another about the art of folding paper in the far eastern lands past the Wastes. He had leaned over and was just about to feed it to the fire when the lingering effects of an Insight potion implored him to take a second look.

After a moment stooped in thought, the Thayvian stood upright and examined the little paper thing. He found the edge of the folding in the construct's belly and jabbed a nail in to start unfolding it. One handed, tugging apart the crane too more effort than it otherwise ought to have. His bad arm was still causing him much suffering, but he eased it out of the sling to at least hold and steady the little shape.

Slowly, the dragon unfolded. Transcribed in neat red ink on the inside was a nearly-finished spell with circles drawn around the missing components. Etched around the borders of the paper were nonsense strings of elvish characters in purple.

The Red Wizard blinked in surprise. A riddle? There was only one reason to use purple: clearly he was supposed to use Imoen to solve it. Of course, if he did so, that would mean showing her some level of respect for the archmagi. Dare he look excited? Interested? Dare he lower himself to the chair of a novice for any man? Maybe. But _not_ in front of Imoen or any other living thing. Besides, with his luck, it would be a spell to conjure enormous quantities of cotton candy.

Damn it. No. It was a fire spell; he could tell that much from the sigils as they snaked their way across the paper. It was absolutely unlike anything he'd ever seen; beautiful in its transcription; effortlessly recursive in how it folded in on itself.

Very well. He'd solve the riddle, and he'd include Imoen if it was absolutely necessary. Cleverly, though, and without prostrating himself.

* * *

Xzar left at no later than two in the morning. He had left just enough time to make one last communion; flesh and prayer both partaken of. They'd lain together and talked about everything that came to mind until the hour had grown too late. She'd helped him quickly bathe. Aegis was groggy, but Xzar himself felt alert. As they walked to the front of the inn, Xan met them in the hallway and offered to join the send off.

They walked him to the edge of town and bid their farewells, and to be honest it _did_ warm the cockles in the most peculiar way. It was odd to have genuine friends, for any reason.

"Do you know when we might expect you back?" the enchanter asked, but Xzar shook his head.

"Soon, Late, In-Between- it depends on what other tasks my superiors have for me. And how soon Montaron and I can shirk eachother. I have to demonstrate a few things... It may not be simple. We shall see. I shall handle it."

"But you will be back," Aegis said rather than asked.

"Eventually, assuming I do not somehow accidentally and permanently kill myself, yes. Ah, do not die in the meanwhile either, Byatskhan Moaratuk."

"Little Death," Xan said, and Xzar jumped slightly. "That's what it means, no? You called her the appellation in many languages when I first met you; you hadn't noticed me yet. I was close enough to hear the draconic and elvish variants. Xzar frowned. "What I find curious isn't the name so much as why you felt compelled to disguise it in a language no one else speaks."

"Xan..." Aegis began slowly.

"When I joined this group, Aegis, I asked to know everything about you and your situation. Everything, so that I could better serve and protect you, and so that we were not doomed from the onset." He looked to Xzar. "You are leaving, and you can neither guide nor protect her any longer. I would say nothing at all if it were not abundantly clear that you both know something very strange, something I do not. Now, are you going to be candid with me, or do we head forth from here undermined with distrust?"

Aegis and Xzar looked at one another, and then down at the fragile enchanter.

"You could just kill him. No one would believe you'd done it," Xzar reminded her.

Aegis gave the necromancer a tolerant look.

"Well, good enough, I like him too." The necromancer looked down at Xan. "We know why she is most likely being hunted. Are you braced to hear something of great potency? This is not mundane."

"Consider me braced," the enchanter told him, utterly unfazed by the the necromancer's suggestion he could be murdered.

Xzar glanced at Aegis, who sighed, wondering how one told _anyone_ something like this without looking insane. "Alright. Let's do the short version of this. Twenty years ago, before the time of troubles, Bhaal- The god of death- ran around raping a bunch of women from a variety of different races. I presume longer-lived races were raped on alternative time tables. The prophecy isn't clear on these details. However, one of these women was my mother. There are supposedly hundreds of people out there like me. One of them killed my father trying to get to me. Apparently I'm competition? Elminster _has_ to know the truth, so by suggesting Gorion's murder and the bandits are related, he's just told us there's a Child of Murder orchestrating the entire iron crisis. Any questions?"

Xan blinked slowly at her. "Is that all?" he asked her quietly.

"Um. Yes."

"So my mission involves helping one half-god kill another half-god midway through a gigantic, bloody, international, fratricidal free for all of semi-divine, homicidal sociopaths; and should I back out, given the god in question, a significant number of people are going to die."

"... I don't feel... _incredibly_ homicidal, if that's any comfort to you. I am a little morbid under the surface, but um... well you don't see _me_ plotting any iron crises..."

"I... I think I need to sit down," the elf swooned. Xzar grabbed him in surprise before he collapsed face-first into the road.

Aegis cursed and came up to help, easing an arm around the elf's back. He cringed slightly. "Hey! Hey it's okay. I'm still Aegis, you know? Blame my- blame Gorion. He didn't raise a monster, and I didn't turn into one overnight on learning this. I'm still... um..."

"Murder-impaired?" Xzar supplied hopefully. "Were I to express your sum quantity of evil in units of kicked puppies, I would have to access the negative numbers; you would be working at some sort of puppy-shelter no doubt. Very odd, but then it sustains you..."

"W-we... we need to talk... at length," Xan said tightly, regarding her with wide and piercingly cyan eyes. "You have always been... larger than life, in more ways than one. Perhaps I sensed something. Let us hope you are not one of those stars designed to go out in a blazing inferno; I should not like to end up with us all trapped in the nova."

"Aye," Aegis agreed.

"We are being careful not to tell anyone," Xzar explained. "Dynaheir and Edwin most obviously; but even the Harpers. People in love with their organizations will bring problems as everyone scrambles to secure their own racehorses. The more indirect ears we reach, the less safe she is."

"Says the Zhent," Xan noticed, "with clerical leanings."

"Xzar is on my side," Aegis told the elf. "As best as he is able, anyway. His advise for staying sane consists of keeping a strong sense of self and avoiding any mimicry of the god. No using daggers, and no using any weapons made of bone...

"She is manifesting very weak divine magic," The necromancer told him, carefully easing Xan back to a steady position on his feet. "_Positive_ energy magic. Do you see the relevancy? Yes. Intriguing, no? Unfortunately I cannot investigate further. You can try to do so. Keep her alive, will you, elf?"

Xan shuddered, getting his bearings and smoothing the wrinkles out of his robe. He looked up at Aegis for a moment, and then slowly looked to Xzar. He was quiet for a very long moment. Then he nodded. "We will be expecting tea when you return," he told the necromancer.

Xzar's mouth quirked. Then, abruptly, he came forward again and hugged the enchanter. Xan accepted this with considerably more grace than Aegis' reveal. "Good luck with your utterly platonic girlfriend and the Helmite," the Zhent teased. Then backed up and look to Aegis.

The two embraced. He kissed her deeply before pulling back with a shudder. "Do not die," he told her sternly once more. "I..." He fell quiet.

"I love you," Aegis said for him. She took a deep breath and then waved him off. The necromancer tilted his head to the side for a short while and then finally smiled slightly. He nodded, turned a little shakily towards his road, and headed off.

* * *

Gorion was still in a wrath, and had been for the past few hours. He stalked angrily up and down the wings of the Song of the Morning Temple, pacing. Ice crackled after him as he walked, and though the Sirines made sure to keep out of his way, he personally had no difficulty walking on the slick substance.

Kelddath Ormlyr had long since retired for the evening, leaving naught but a young cleric and the Fae women to watch over the temple. Gorion had just made another round of the temple and crossed over the center atrium when an evening traveler entered the room. He would have paid the man no attention at all- not even to remember he ought to be wearing his hood and keeping to the less visible areas of the temple- had not the stranger called out in a familiar voice behind him.

"Well _hello_, Not-So-Very-Dead Harper. Imagine seeing _you_ here."

* * *

I think _someone_ has accidentally displayed an insecurity about his best stat... Methinks Edwin would have gotten more mileage from _Friends_ instead of _Mind Focusing_ and _Genius_, but try convincing the man he needs a Charisma buff and we'll see how far you get...


	12. In Which Ajantis Suffers

I may be losing steam. I had no interest in writing this chapter. Perhaps that's because its transitory; no huge events. We'll see :3 Fanfictions often do this. If I vanish, I hope you enjoyed the experience XD And that I unvanish eventually!

* * *

Garrick did not come with them. He headed North that very morning with a caravan. Imoen, Xan, Dynaheir, Minsc, Branwen, and Ajantis saw him off; the latter more out of a sense of duty to the group than anything else. He briefly asked about Viconia and then seemed simultaneously sad and relieved that she seemed disinterested in his departure. Aegis and Xan shared a look and then both covered their faces and said nothing. _Ah. That was who she roomed with last night._

Imoen gave the young bard an enchanted shawl that would activate a Luck enchantment whenever he played a bard song. That, and a kiss on the cheek which he blushed at. Branwen gave him an awkward but friendly pat on the shoulder, and advised him to try and woo his next woman by punching her. Aegis and Minsc made sure he had enough food.

Then he was off.

* * *

Aegis was happy to be groggy. The lack of sleep was helping to detract from Xzar's absence. They walked two abreast on the road to High Hedge, and seeing that Branwen and Ajantis were chattering about Helm this and Tempus that, Xan elected to walk beside her. Although he was significantly shorter, the presence of a wizard did have some sort of mitigating effect on her loneliness. Perhaps this was because it spurred her protective tendencies, and so all her mental energy went into supervising her ears and eyes.

"Your sister wants to send a messenger pigeon to Candlekeep tonight," the elf told her. "Is there anyone you'd like to message?"

Aegis grimaced. "No," she answered.

Xan glanced at her. "No friends? Tutors?

"The only messages I want to send, I'd need a celestial pigeon for," the ranger answered. "Did you manage to trance last night?"

"For a bit," he agreed. "My spirit is still clutt-" He was cut off as Aegis reached over almost casually with her shield, and wrapped it between him and an oncoming barrage of throwing knives, yanking him close.

"Hold that thought. Vic, Bran, Ajantis!" She pulled Xan out of the way to reveal the oncoming skeletons, some clutching long daggers in one hand and round shields in the other; others throwing more knives.

"Got it!" Branwen agreed, stepping forward and lifting her shield and malus menacingly. Viconia darted up from Dynaheir's side to join her. "TEMPUS!"

"FOR SHAR!"

Ajantis nearly fell over, and whirled about as fast as plate allowed to gape at the disguised drow. Edwin blinked at this reaction and then his eyes widened and he broke out laughing. "We didn't tell him!? You didn't tell him!"

A brief moment flew past as energy built up in the air around them. Then the skeletons began to explode into clouds of powder and bone shards. Those who didn't combust began to cower or flee. Imoen stepped forward, loosing a fire arrow that tore through an enemy's skull. A quick magic missile flurry from Dynaheir and a single additional issue were sufficient to dispatch of the others. Where there had easily been twenty skeletons, there was now but ash.

"Skeletons?" Xan asked, pushing free of Aegis' shield to come up and inspect the piles. "In broad daylight? With no magus?"

"Curious wizards aggravate my allergies," Aegis muttered, pursuing the elf and keeping her shield raised. "Good work ladies. Dynaheir! Edwin! Come up and have a look! Everyone else, circle them and keep your eyes peeled.

Viconia and Branwen gave each-other affirmative nods and then looked to Ajantis, the former with a cruel and haughty smirk; the latter in amusement. Without much delay, they moved to shepherd and Edwin and Dynaheir safely up to investigate the bones. Edwin was still chuckling as he joined Xan from the rear, looking curiously down at the evidence.

"There is a high level of magical energy in the air," Dynaheir was murmuring, looking around at the area. "There are interesting ley lines ahead. It is no wonder a wizard would choose to place his workshop in such a location."

"We've still got a few hours to hike," Aegis told her. "And then a bit of wandering as we aren't exactly sure where it is. Should we be expecting more skeletons?"

"It seems reasonable to," Xan confirmed. "These appear to have raised spontaneously; though were they came from and why they are bearing weapons is unknown to me."

"Why are they black?" Branwen wondered more mundanely. "The bones. A person's bones aren't that color. That ebon color." No one seem to know, although Edwin demonstrated the bones were old and brittle by stepping on a skull and shattering it. They could always ask the mage about them.

Aegis reorganized the party to ensure she had shield bearers flanking her three wizards. Then they headed forward. They had been walking again for about five minutes before Ajantis finally exclaimed, "She is a cleric of Shar? Shar is evil! Did you not know this!?"

Edwin broke out laughing again. Kagain lifted a brow. "I swear," the dwarf huffed. "If I had a copper for every moron I run across, I could buy Baldur's Gate."

"I am a drow, Rivvin," Viconia told him. "And it is through the assistance of this party that I wear a light-skinned mask and walk unmolested among your people."

"This cannot stand!" Ajantis implored, turning his gaze to Aegis, who was glancing behind her in irritation at the interruption. "We cannot walk with a cleric of Darkness in our midst!"

"Well we are, so obviously we can," Xan muttered. "Perhaps the modifier you are looking for is 'should not'."

"We _must_ not!" Ajantis proclaimed. "The servants of Shar are wrong and vile, and must be rooted out wherever they are found!"

"Hold your tongue, male," Viconia told him viciously. "I have no quarrel with you or with anyone else; and I remember you swore an oath to Aegis to obey her! I remember, Rivvin, do you? That your first promise was to abstain from infighting!"

"I was deceived then, if she knew what you were!" he answered. "How could I swear to such a vow knowing that evil walked with us? But _why_ would she swear me to such a thing?"

"Let me get this straight," Edwin was still laughing, "paladin oaths crumble at the first sign of inconvenience, eh? And here I thought they were unbreakable!"

Ajantis grimaced, confused and off-kilter. He looked to Aegis desperately, surprised and concerned. "Please, I beg you; I know not why you have let this woman travel with our group, and perhaps you do not yet appreciate the full extent of her depravity. But release me from my vow, so that I can expunge this taint! There is no righteousness in working with one such as her!"

"Viconia is a companion, and she is under the protection of the group as is anyone else," Aegis told him. "That includes your protection, now, by the way."

"You would have me defend my enemy?!" He was astounded.

"In this group, she isn't your enemy."

"I cannot accept that!" the paladin announced firmly.

"Didn't you swear to obey me?" the ranger asked.

The paladin squirmed and stopped walking. The rest of the party slowed around him as he looked desperately around before turning his gaze back to Aegis. Painfully, he nodded.

"Then keep walking and give it a few days," Aegis told him. "Because you're going to do a hell of a lot more good with us than you'll ever do alone; and Viconia's safety isn't up for debate. Also, she pulled her weight while you stood their gawking."

"Aye, and we ain't makin' any money standing around here starin' at each other arguin' about 'evil'," the dwarf muttered. "Investing it in gear, neither."

The group did start up walking again, though Ajantis lingered horrified for a moment. Then, meek and confused, he retook his place in the formation. He arrived just in time to take a form full of throwing knives on Dynaheir's behalf. Then there were Gnolls ambushing them from the other side, a dwarf muttering something about needing ale, three wizards preparing some low level magic missiles, and a few more shouts to the gods.

* * *

"This is getting ridiculous," Edwin muttered as he stepped around a fallen skeleton, and for once everyone could agree. The group had been plowing through altercation after altercation, some no more than ten minutes distant rom one another. The area around High Hedge was so ridiculously covered in skeletons that the group joked Xzar had clearly headed in the wrong direction. The clerics were starting to get tired, though Viconia carried the mental strain well and Ajantis had finally picked up some of the burden as he stopped twitching so violently each time he heard Shar's name.

"Hee! Just be conservative with your magic," Imoen encouraged, and the Thayvian grumbled. She rolled her eyes. {By the way, how's the arm?}

He didn't like a reminder of his condition, but he flexed the fingers reflexively and glanced down at them. {Better,} he admitted.

{Sticking to magic missiles was clever, since you at least don't have to throw accurately.}

He didn't answer her.

"Imoen, I've been meaning to pose you a question," Xan started off, hoping to draw Imoen away from a 'friend' who was most certainly a bad influence on her. "I've noticed you do not carry a melee weapon. Just a small razor for cutting purses."

"Correct!" the thief agreed, drawing out the razor blade in question. It was bare steel, incredibly sharp, two inches in length, and triangular in shape. She held it expertly between two fingers and then committed a sleight of hand in which she rapidly passed it from knuckle to knuckle like a coin.

"What do you do if confronted in a melee?" Xan asked at her

"When? Have you met my sister? I back up and shoot faster," she giggled, tucking the razor away on her person. "I had a short sword for awhile but I pawned it. Was a nuisance."

The Red Wizard looked at her in amusement and Xan shook his head. "That... does not seem adequately prepared for _disaster_ to me. What melee weapons have you trained with?"

"At Candlekeep? The quarterstaff. The longstaff. The bo staff? The cane! The walking staff. The common stick! What? That's all anyone has! The monks, the guards, the wizards, the clerics, the visitors, anyone! Staffs, staffs, and more staffs. The staff is a signature of the keep, really! You could have that, a bow, a belt knife, or a hatchet. But hey, what's it really matter? Look at me! I've all the upper arm strength of overcooked pasta! Rawr!" she flexed. "I can't do anything with a staff- other thank look pretty twirling it!"

Edwin sent forward a handful of magic missiles as yet another band of skeletons burst out from the brush. A grin formed on his face. {I shall remember this when I inevitably sell you into slavery: Will make good exotic dancer...}

Imoen drew a bead on a target he'd missed. She took the skeleton out with an arrow through the eye socket and then gave Edwin an amused expression, one which Xan felt suggested the man had said something unnecessarily rude. Or Lewd. {Well, you won't be worth anything,} she told him. {I'm not even sure you're housebroken!} He rolled his eyes.

The elf sighed. "You should seek practice with a dagger or the shortsword again," he told her sagely.

"Bah! Do I _have_ to? I'm no good with one. It isn't my interest!" She nocked another arrow and held it partially drawn as they walked.

Xan was patient. "We are wizards, Imoen. Aside from myself, the majority of us are not _interested_ in steel, either. But even the least of us have been buffeted about the ears by our mentors never to go without at least a staff or dagger. Pick something quick and lethal with emphasis on speed. If you are bowled over in a melee, you will not survive with just a bow. You need a last defense in an emergency. Please?"

"But I'm really an archer!" she whined.

Edwin casually prodded her in the breast with a dagger he'd just unsheathed. "And now you're really dead," he told her, amused.

"Ow! Hmph. Fine. I'll _think_ about it." She rolled her eyes.

Edwin and Xan shared a glance, and for all the bad influence the Red Wizard may or may not have been, at least they could agree on something. The Thayvian stooped, picked up a dagger from one of the obliterated skeletons, and promptly pushed it into Imoen's belt.

"No!" the girl exclaimed, plucking the dagger free with two fingers and tossing it away like it was a dead snake. Her wizards gave her perplexed looks. "I... I don't like daggers," she said. "So there!"

"She's... ehm... ahem? Oh very well, I'll wait." Edwin examined his nails, as if he expected something. "Monkeys..."

"Doomed," Xan realized. "She's _doomed_."

* * *

"Guys! I've successfully found a vaguely described location in the middle of a forest without Jaheira to help me!" Aegis laughed. "Excellent work to the team of animal companions and-or familiars that made this possible, including Urso (a peanut was given), Boo (another peanut), and Ankh... Ehm, sorry, I don't have any dead mice on me." Ankh was Dynaheir's hawk, and he had assisted them in spotting High Hedge from above. He bowed elegantly in response to the praise and then took off once more.

"Minsc feels he has only served as Boo's assistant in this task," the other ranger confessed. "Trail finding has gotten... harder... since the head injury," he admitted as if disappointing with himself.

Aegis past his shoulder reassuringly. "Let's just be glad you've got Boo then."

"Hey!" Imoen laughed, "That's quite a sight that is!" She was looking up at the lovely architecture of High Hedge as it crested through the treetops. "This is the wizard's home? Lair? Den? Workshop? It's an octagon! And so... _shiny_..."

"Please don't wet yourself," Edwin muttered.

"Well, let's see if the mage is home," Aegis decided. "Politely, everyone. Remember we're basically walking in on a semi-hermit whom the people in Beregost claim is sour tempered..."

"Me first!" Imoen squealed, hopping forward. Aegis seized the other girl up by the scruff of her collar, and set her back next to Edwin and Xan.

"Skeletons, Immy. Me first. Me _always_ first."

They found the front gate of the octagon open, with a pleasant breeze coursing through the structure to ventilate it. What they could see of the interior structure rushed with magic.

"Golem!" Xan warned. To their side was a menacing, brutish thing that rounded on them with its fists raised. At its feet was an incredibly mashed gnoll. Aegis waved the party back momentarily as Edwin hissed "Imoen!" Aegis tried to get a bead on her sister, but it was too late; Lady Pink was already missing.

* * *

"Hi!" Her sudden appearance earned her a (thankfully un-fired) Wand of Fire in the face as Thalantyr, the mage, nearly leaped out of his skin. "Nice to meet you, I'm Imoen!"

"How-!? How did you get past-?"

"Oh never mind that! Berron Ghastkill sent us, and we're supposed to deliver the iron poison! Only its out with the others and they can't get past the golem."

"Well... erm... Well fetch it for me then and be off with you!" he scowled.

"Welllll about that... We have three wizards, a lot of gold, some fresh spell components, some nice gems, and we were just... ya know... _wondering_ if maybe a _powerful_ mage like yourself might have some... scrolls or potions or gear he'd be willing to part with..."

"Do I look like a merchant to you, girl?"

"No. You aren't slimy enough, you don't have one of those big fake smiles, and you don't keep calling me 'friend' and yammering about special discounts. But looking around, you are are _definitely_ a collector of magic..."

"I already have enough novices to worry about with my daft apprentice disappearing on me, and I do not need anymore!" he sputtered, trying to get control of the situation. "But yes... I am."

"I'm _sure_ Berrun would have mentioned our group is talented! And weird; I'm sure anyone would have mentioned we were weird, and that we have a Greycloak with a Moonblade, a Wychlaran, and a Thayvian. Clearly not novices! Please consider letting them in? They can't find decent gear _anywhere_ around these parts, and the stupid conjurer keeps bellyaching about how the Sword Coast is clearly magically destitute. Honestly I'm like eighty percent sure that's just because he wants to try binding a higher tier devil for summoning soon, but has no material to study..."

Thalantyr stared at her for a long moment. Imoen stopped talking and beam innocently up at him.

"... Tell them if they vex me but once, this building's defensive spells will be more than enough to deal with all three of them."

"Yay! Thank you!" She hopped off.

"... A Wychlaran and a Red Wizard... I need to see this for myself..."

* * *

Aegis was laughing. "And you thought my full plate was expensive!" she cackled as Xan and Dynaheir drooled eagerly over two beautifully crafted robes, each priced at twenty-five thousand gold. The tag was astronomical for a reason; they were 'archmagi robes,' offering tremendous physical and magical protection to individuals who traditionally could not wear armor.

"Imoen...?" Dynaheir pleaded, but the thief snickered and shook her head rapidly.

"We're going to have to kill a lot of big monsters!" she teased.

"Oh, aye," Aegis laughed, "that's only like ninety Winter wolf pelts for one! Let's purge the countryside!"

"Could we afford even one?" Dynaheir needed to know.

"If we ignored everyone else and pooled everything together, including my loot?" Imoen asked. "One. Not a good expenditure on a convenience! We'll just have to maintain a division of labor between shield bearers and magicians right now, eh? Ha!"

"Gives us a fund raising benchmark, though," Aegis noted. "Along with more full plate and magic shields. Thalantyr, do you have any recommendations on where remarkably foolish people might be able to collect gold or trinkets for gearing up properly?"

The mage considered the query as Edwin and Imoen browsed through scrolls and potions. "Ulcaster, or Firewine," the magus answered at last. "If you survive, of course. Those halls are littered with the bodies of fools."

"What's 'Ulcaster?' Imoen asked.

"The ruines of an old mage school," Aegis answered thoughtfully. "Really badly haunted, with hoards of undead. Magus, do you personally want anything down there, since you're recommending it to us?"

"I would pay a pretty penny for any surviving scrolls, tomes, or even copies of inscriptions taken from the walls. In addition to any 'trinkets' you did not find yourself in need of. I haven't the energy to treasure hunt anymore; that does not mean I've lost an appreciation for treasures."

"Speakin o' undead," Kagain heaved boredly, "what was with them skeletons out there? That ain't usual, even for hereabouts."

"Yes... we could barely make it ten yards without assault," Viconia sniffed. "Work of yours?"

"No, though they conveniently keep most riftraft out," Thalantyr mused, scratching his chin. "It's getting that bad? The gnolls must be antagonizing the ley nodes again."

"Ley nodes?" Viconia asked. She was watching Ajantis, who looked to be peering around the building as if he were about to accuse it of being 'evil.'

"Natural occurring magic," Branwen explained. "Not all wizards pay much heed to it. It's raising undead?"

"It's not raising. It's conjuring," Thalantyr explained. "Pulling the animus straight out of the abyss and mimicking the shape of the bodies in an old tomb its wisest not to bother. Usually it's barely worth noticing... unless the gnolls shamans start trying to control it. Then I have to spend a week figuring out what they've done, and another week thinning out the gnolls. Mmn. For now, I'd appreciate it if you could collect about two dozen or so of their skulls... They make the best reagents for calming down the area's wild magic. I'll pay you in a wand of Fire for the trouble."

"Deal!" Imoen answered emphatically. They'd killed many dozens just on their way to High Hedge.

"Got another question," Aegis asked suddenly, her nostrils flaring as something had been bothering her since she'd stepped into the building. Now she thought she knew what it might be. "Thalantyr, what are those?" The ranger lifted up a hand and pointed to crystal boxes on high ledge.

The wizard blinked and turned about, looking up past hundreds of other spell components, trinkets, and mundane magical items to the boxes. Then he looked back at her, a little confused as to how or why she had singled them out. "Outside of your budget," the mage noted. "But for your information, they are artifacts, each half beneficial and half detrimental. They are to be used only by fools who have a plan for mitigating their ill effects, and while I have no personal use for them, I would never part with them lightly."

"Artifacts?" Edwin pressed curiously, looking up as well. He immediately noticed that one box housed a gnarled and hollowed out claw; and the other contained a horn.

Thalantyr nodded. "The claw and horn of Kazgaroth."

Xan paled when he realized what that signified. Branwen stood up straight, looking at the items. Then she gave a low whistle. "Ye mean that? How the devil did ye...? You are no simple wizard living out in the woods!" she exclaimed. "You were involved with that whole shapeshifter mess in the Moonshaes?"

"Aye," the wizard agreed. "Though I acquired them later on."

"Didn't he turn out to be an avatar of Malar of Bhaal or something?" Branwen said, grimacing at the items. Aegis and Xan shared a look; that surely explained why _she_ had noticed them.

Thalantyr sighed: "Which explains why they are artifacts, does it not? Let that be the end of the matter."

"Will you tell us the story of how you got them?" Imoen asked.

"No."

"Awww... Okay, maybe next time."

Ajantis squirmed. "Why would you _keep_ such unholy trinkets?" he gasped at long last. "They should be purged!"

"Because they are _indestructible_, stupid boy, and could do considerable harm in the wrong hands," the mage answered. "Honestly, paladins, no head for magic... should leave matters to..." Grumble, grumble, grumble.

* * *

[I feel like we are hearing a certain dead god's name once too often,] Aegis confessed to Xan.

[You might be a magnet for it,] he muttered back. [If now is a time of chaos and discord because of his actions, is it any wonder we are seeing a large wealth of magical activity linked to him? Those skeletons, for example, are ebon black and wield daggers. I don't know what you know about Bhaalites, but that's a calling card for Death himself. Odds are this old tomb troubles Thalantyr for a reason.]

[And now I am overwhelmed by an urge to obliterate it.]

[Save it for another time; we are not yet on such a level as to entangle ourselves with trouble a wizard of his caliber fears.]

"Thalantyr?" Imoen piped up. "Didn't you say something happened to your apprentice? Why don't you tell us about him; maybe we can find him for you."

"(Or what's left of him,)" Edwin muttered and winced at the pinch he received.

"His name is Melicamp," the magus explained without further coaxing, suggesting that, despite the scowl he wore, he really was worried. "He disappeared two days ago, headed south on an errand to the Red Canyons for me. He was _reasonably _competent for a novice, and under a mantle of undeath. He had no reason to fear the skeletons."

"Can't you scry for him?" Imoen asked.

"I am a conjurer," Thalantyr sighed. "Which I regret nigh on once every month, for one reason or another."

Edwin lifted a brow. "Why?" he asked flatly.

"When you are young, a fireball seems the most impressive magic in the world," he lamented. "But that's because you have nothing to lose and everything to prove. Try working without divination for more than a few decades, and you'll find you've basically cut out a subtle third eye, which all other mages have access too. You struggle when things are invisible, when they are missing, with illusions, when your adversaries are haunting you... magical items can be a chore to identify; and a treasure hunter can accidentally skip the most delightful finds because he cannot see magic auras. A good carnival fortune teller can read cards and predict outcomes of risky experiments better than I can alone!

"Divination is the magic of _knowing_, and sometimes all you want to do is _know_ something you cannot conventionally determine. Like: what in the hells happened to my apprentice? At my age, I have realized it would make more sense if I dropped my specialty and went through the agonizing and humiliating struggle of learning divination from the ground up like a child. And, unfortunately, I have not yet mastered it."

"You... _could_ simply summon a demon or devil and get them to find out the answer for you," Edwin noted irritably. "Or an angel, if that's your thing, though I find they are nowhere near as useful..."

"Yes," Thalantyr muttered, "well, the next time you've misplaced someone, we'll see how far that gets you, whelp. Devils are useful for staging decade-long searches for rare and famous necronomicons, ones which haven't been seen by living eyes in thousands of years. Finding a lost boy in the Red Canyon over the course of a day? Not so much."

"So send out summoned imps, birds, or whatever and have them do a sweep of the area," Edwin suggested.

"If you honestly believe I haven't tried that, you must assume I am somehow stupid," Thalantyr told him bluntly. "I have also transformed into a bronze dragon and flown back and forward over the area, but sadly, I also was unable to find him."

Imoen looked at him, her jaw dropping.

"What?" the old mage asked. Then he sighed. "Is she going to ask me to turn into a dragon for her?" Thalantyr asked them tiredly, rubbing his face.

Edwin looked slightly impressed, but then turned an irritable look on Imoen. "Don't do it," he advised the wizard. "Doubtless she will then ask to ride on you, and take what little dignity we all have left."

Xan stepped forward to take this conversation down more protective routes. "Do you have anything of his we might do a divination with?"

"Melicamp owns very little," Thalantyr remarked. "Give my unseen servants a moment. If I am fortunate, they can find a few strands of hair or some such..."

* * *

"Paladin, I noticed you seemed very uncomfortable within the mage's sanctum," Viconia began a few minutes after the party had regained the road, "and I cannot help but wonder if perhaps you are from Amn, and your 'Order of the Radiant Heart' is the one based out of Athkatla."

Ajantis looked upset that he was going to have to speak with her. Dynaheir placed a hand on the drow's shoulder, concerned. "It is, though I worry by your tone that you are about to utter something twisted..." the paladin said at last.

"You wound me. I merely was looking for some explanation for your... laughable discomfort with magic," Viconia decided with a haughty sneer. "I suppose your disdain gives Edwin and I something to _bond_ on then."

The Red Wizard smirked. "I should like to 'bond' in other ways as well, dark flower; perhaps with a good four poster bed..." _  
_

Ajantis stiffened slightly and almost looked ready to chastise Edwin for speaking thus to a woman, but Viconia merely laughed. "Not on your _life_, Thayvian! I would need a terrible amount of alcohol, and then I think I could only stomach it if you'd been strapped down, and- more importantly- _gagged_." Edwin laughed. Imoen covered her face. Dynaheir blushed. Xan drooped in horror, as Branwen discretely placed a hand over each of his ears.

"Okay! So, that... that was enlightening," Aegis exclaimed, her voice trailing off near the end. "What a _conversation_ this is turning out to be."

Edwin didn't leave it at that. "Well, given your magic resistance, I suppose I'll just have to memorize a sequencer to make sure one of my _Hold Person_ spells takes, or else slip a vial of _Lowered Resistance_ into your cup at night," he grinned toothily. "Then again, stealth is not my strong suite; Perhaps I shall somehow trick Imoen into doing it for me."

"That sounds _terribly _unimaginative of you, Thayvian; why not simply turn me to stone? Or use an ordinary stone. You'd get a similar experience from a paralyzed person."

"Oh, so cold! And here I was merely going to use that for foreplay..."

"Foreplay? That sounds naughty. Perhaps deserving of punishment. I shall have to procure a whip, hopefully one with barbs at the end..." Viconia mused playfully. Kagain had finally tuned into the conversation. He decided to say nothing, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

"People, this conversation!" Aegis exclaimed. "It is hurting my brain!"

"Oh come now, Aegis, you were involved with Xzar," Viconia muttered. "What unspeakable horrors serves for intimacy with a devotee to the art of necromancy? I assume nothing was, ah, _rotten_ under the hood? Did he ask to incorporate a newly reanimated individual into the ritual?"

There had certainly been a lot of extensive background twitching, grimacing, wincing, and cringing going on over the course of the conversation, and this prompt elicited its own wave of distress from nearly everyone.

Aegis pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Sweet _Oghma_, you people need to find healthy relationships so you can know what it's like. Xzar and I had a completely normal, healthy, monogamous, not-at-all-creepy, no-props-needed, relationship on the sexual side of things."

A disbelieving pause. "That sounds dreadfully boring," Viconia answered at last. "I don't understand the allure."

"Couldn't you have done that with _anyone?_" Edwin asked doubtingly.

"There must have been some oddity to him," Viconia claimed. "What kind of lover was he? Submissive? Dominant?"

Ajantis' eyes were slightly glazed as he watched this all happen as if witnessing some sort of unstoppable ship wreck in progress. Dynaheir was too astounded to restrain the drow, and Minsc was busy watching the scenery. Imoen had a hand over her face, and Branwen was still covering Xan's ears. The elf was muttering under his breath and staring straight ahead, his eyes rolled up in divination and his body walking almost automatically.

Aegis heaved a sigh. "Tender," she answered with surprising clarity, eschewing her privacy in doing so. "And considerate. Clever with his fingers and gave good back massages."

Edwin and Viconia both gave her strange looks.

Aegis glanced back at them. "The way you guys approach intimacy is a _choice_, don't go try forcing your mentality on other people and assume that 'everyone is the same. And, ah, by the way; if you two ever go after Xan like that? I will be one _incredibly cranky _ranger.'"

Viconia glanced at the enchanter. "What is the matter with the elf?" she decided to ask. "I have watched nearly everyone in the group step carefully around him, in conversation but also particularly in sleeping arrangements. No one has explained this situation to me."

"The elf was being used as a sex slave," Edwin answered flatly, and without compassion. Ajantis was a little numb by this point, but still grimaced in horror. Kagain broke out laughing. "By a male half-orc devotee of Cyric."

"That's... _interesting_," Viconia mused. "And clarifies some things. Though I do not know why we tolerate such weakness. Why not simply work at desensitizing him, and dispose of his company if he cannot adapt?"

Branwen shot Edwin a disapproving look. "Keep your tongue in your head, Red Wizard," she growled at around the same time Viconia was speaking.

Edwin chuckled. "What? Is it worse for her to know or to sort of know? Everyone can tell Xan is weak, and could eventually deduce that we keep him because he's willing to specialize in utilitarian magics the rest of us don't have time for."

"Are you his lover then, Branwen?" Viconia asked the cleric with an approximation of politeness.

"Right now I am a meditation aid," the Norheim woman grumbled.

"A... lowly function for a woman such as you," Viconia continued tactfully.

"Well when there are friends to look out for, you end up being whatever it takes. Healer, soldier, ear muffs, and all," Branwen replied.

"Yet you _are_ touching his ears. And I believe you two share a room and even a camping palette...?" the drow prodded, no longer hostile but perhaps a little confused or disdainful. Surface dwellers were an enigma to her.

"It's not your business, Viconia, but no. We don't sleep together. We are _just_ friends."

Their newer cleric considered this, puzzled for a moment. While she wasn't entirely sure she understood, she could at least sense that Branwen felt protective of the fragile male, and that it would be rude to continue prying. After a time, Viconia gave an answer the others supposed was meant to be complementary towards Branwen: "He would have difficulty satisfying you anyway; he could not match your stamina." And she left the conversation at that.

Only at this time did Xan stop walking and blinked rapidly. "Hobgoblins," he reported. "Quarter of a mile ahead."


	13. The Apprentice

Long chapter, but it all grouped together properly, and I want to get to Imoen's messenger pigeon! XD. No FFFFs till then!

* * *

The Apprentice

* * *

The only thing particularly strange about Minsc and Aegis having a conversation with a chicken, was that Edwin found he could also understand it. The tiny white creature's voice was hoarse and difficult to parse, but he was most certainly speaking fluent Common words in a fashion similar to a raven or a parrot. The wolf that had been chasing the bird about now sat innocently off to the side, tong lolling and tail wagging.

"I wish Xzar were here," Aegis said at length.

"Sadly, I am ill equipped to launch into the exact type of hysteric fit this would surely cause him," Xan said as he pat her shoulder.

"Perhaps I can work out what he would say. Forsooth, methinks you are no ordinary talking chicken? No, no, no..." She looked up at the air, rubbing her chin. "Aha! I've got it. Ahem. Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Unholy magics are afoot! The poultry is possessed! This bird is FOUL!"

Xan's lips passed very tightly together in what was definitely not a smile, but close. "That girlish shriek at the beginning was absolutely necessary, but I think it was the homonym that truly drove it home."

"What happened?!" Ajantis was nearly ready to leap out of his skin.

"Acting!" Aegis called reassuringly. "Very good acting!"

"If- bacaw!- you are done making light at my expense..." the chicken clucked slowly.

"Yes, yes, don't worry, Thalantyr sent us after you. We'll get you home safely! Xan, would you or Imoen... Imoen?"

The thief was standing at the edge of the party, straining her ears. "Something's coming!" she said. "I can hear it! Aeg-" Then there were suddenly howls, as a pack of enormous, shaggy black wolves came bursting out behind a rocky outcropping and headed full speed towards the group.

Aegis swore, hoisting up her shield and rushing to confront their attackers. Ajantis was so dazed by the experiences of the day that he scarcely budged, but Kagain was into combat first, tearing through the lead worg with his axe and cleaving its forelegs from its body. Imoen stumbled backwards. A lightning bolt flew through the air and then suddenly there was a hail of arrows coming at the party.

"Shields!" Imoen heard Aegis call, and that was the last thing she registered before one of the wolves leaped at her and knocked her senseless to the ground.

* * *

"HOLD!" boomed a thick hobgoblin voice. A high-pitched whistle followed, and then the surviving worgs were pulling back from the party, falling into a loose line. Behind them stood ten hobgoblins in full, with three incredibly large and scarred brutes wearing distinctive colored tabards in the center.

The party reacted to the sudden lapse in pressure quickly, with the more competent and focused of the shield bearers sliding in place to form a wall around the magic users. It was only then that Aegis realized she'd lost count. Her eyes widened and she lowered her arms, taking an alarmed step forward. "Imoen!" she exclaimed.

The foremost hobgoblin was holding Imoen roughly by the arm. The girl had a bloody nosed and looked slightly dazed, but the sound of her name seemed to snap her to sobriety. "Aegy!" she gasped, and then winced when the hobgoblin prodded her in the collar with the length of his sword.

"Do not be fools!" the hobgoblin laughed at them. "I am Malkax! You will give us all of your money, or we will kill this lamb girl and then kill you and take gold by force!"

"He's lying," Viconia snarled. "Once he has what he wants and we are vulnerable, he will strike either way."

"He wouldn't have pulled back the worgs if he didn't plan on walking away!" Xan hissed. "He has our only archer!"

"Make the exchange," Dynaheir hissed. "We need her out of harm's way to use our best magic; he doesn't know this!"

"Not have time to play games!" Malkax warned them, prodding Imoen hard enough to draw some blood. Then he gestured angrily with his sword arm. "Give money now, or we eat mutton tonight either way!"

"Wait!" Aegis exclaimed desperately. "Wait... wait, just... just let us get our purses out!"

"Hurry up!"

Kagain balked. "I'm not giving up _my_ gold t' that fat pig!" he snarled, and the hobgoblins narrowed their eyes. Aegis glared at him.

"Do as I order, and we won't lose either of the things we both care most for," The ranger growled. "Get your purses out!"

Imoen's gaze darted frightened from one group member to another, before finally settling on Edwin. She noticed that he had eased his injured arm out of the sling. As he reached slowly down to un-clip his belt purse, she realized that the fingers of his previously injured hand were moving slowly and precisely through the somatic component for a fireball spell. She glanced from his hand to his face. He mouthed words. He mouthed draconic.

Imoen shuddered. She closed her eyes tightly, shuddering under the stench and heat of the monstrous bandit.

"Alright!" Aegis called. "We have your money! Just... just don't hurt her!"

"Bring it to us!" Malkax commanded. "No, not you. One of the softies! Then we will let her go!"

Aegis hesitated. "I don't- I don't trust you. You could take the gold and kill both of them!"

"Do it, knight, or she gets stuck," the hobgoblin growled.

"I'll do it," Xan murmured, tugging on Aegis' arm. At her surprised glare, he shook his head. "Trust me. With my magic, I am much hardier than I appear. You know this."

Aegis took in a long, slow breath. Then she nodded and passed the bags to Xan. The elf took them up slightly awkwardly in his arms, and then slowly stepped across the battlefield and past the snarling worgs.

Imoen carefully inched her hand to the side. She wet her lips, trying to recall a page of a book. In her mind she could see blank parchment, then a whirl of activity as runes bloomed up along the circumference and twirled into the center. There were gaps. She tried to fill them. She tried to reason. Her brows furrowed together.

"I have your money," Xan told the hobgoblins, who grinned to each other and chuckled, their bows still trained on him and on the party. Opening her eyes, Imoen saw the elf had a tolerant but almost sarcastic expression on his face. He knew what he was doing.

"That's _perfect_ elfy," one of them purred, reaching out not to grab the money but to feel Xan's hair. "Maybe you would like to be Galtik's prisoner for awhile, eh?"

Xan went very still, his gaze dead of all expression.

Imoen looked quickly to Edwin, who nodded. Within her mind, runes peeled, bent, and flew off the page; spiraling into a construct more of metal and light than of words. She sucked in a deep breath, and then spit out the words with all the clarity and speed she could muster. _"Slen ol yolzoor uft!" _She heard, simultaneously, Edwin chanting.

Flames exploded down her arm as she jammed her fingers up against her captor's codpiece. The hot smell of a discharged spell and burnt flesh; and the hobgoblin's horrified scream as he threw her forward and clutched at himself; these things registered in her mind as she lunged forward with the force of the push and tackled Xan to the ground. He dropped bags left and right, catching her in surprise.

They hit the earth just as Edwin cast forward his hot bead of magma high over the heads. It exploded directly into the central leadership of the hobgoblins, erupting for twenty feet in a spherical radius and coming up but two feet short of the ground. In fact, the flames came so close to Imoen and Xan that they singed her hair midmotion as the strands tried to follow her down to the earth.

Imoen rolled off of Xan in the ensuing confusion, grabbing his hand to haul him to his feet as the Hobgoblins howled. He drew his sword as he stood, bounding after her towards safety.

Scarcely able to believed what had just happened, but realizing they had to take advantage of the situation, their party rushed forward with a unified roar. Aegis and Minsc flew into rages. Dynaheir sent a lighting bolt exploding through the worgs on Xan and Imoen's left hand side. Two volleys of arrows pursued, one coming from each flank of hobgoblins as the central brutes recovered; but the projectiles bounced harmlessly off of the enchanter's _Protection from Arrows_ spell.

A worg leaped from the right and Xan tore out his Moonblade and slashed the creature's belly open. Another worg leaped at them, grabbing the elf's leg and yanking it straight out from under him. Then Aegis had reached them, and her axe sent disembodied worg parts flying through the air like they weighed little more than wisps of cotton.

Minsc headed straight towards the hobgoblins ahead of them, taking a barrage of arrows and roaring about GOODNESS! He leaped into the air as he reached them, drawing his sword in a massive horizontal sweep. The force of his self-projectile-awesomeness bowled over three and a half hobgoblins; the remaining half was a set of legs which remained standing upright behind him.

Fighting off other worgs, Branwen was prevented from getting to Xan before Viconia did. She and Imoen each grabbed one of his hands, hauling him easily up from the ground. "Are you injured?" Viconia demanded, and he saw that her disguise had faded. Xan made a mental note as to the timing.

"Not... Just a little bruised. My spells protected me," he said, dazed. She seemed a little surprised.

"I think I saw their arrows are slicked with something ridiculously and obviously _green_," Imoen told the cleric. "Check everyone for poison!"

"Good," Viconia announced, clasping Xan's shoulder firmly and then looking to Imoen. "And understood." Then she turned and rushed past them with her mace held high. "Slaughter our enemies!"

Xan whirled in surprise after the drow. Then he looked at Imoen. "I was going to try and charm them as soon as they took the purses and freed my hands..." He shook his head in disbelief. "What did you _do_...?"

"Not now," the thief answered. "Help me get a bow!"

He nodded. A fireball went flying past them, and as arrows fell around and wolves howled, they scrambled to get hold of a fallen bow. Xan's shorter duration spells were starting to elapse, but as they wove across the field he took up his sword in both hands and easily managed to fend off a snarling and snapping worg that came up on their side. He scored it several times in the face until at last it lunged for his legs. Side-stepping the attack and hopping slightly, Xan lifted the blade high and then dropped his weight hard down through the length and into the tip. It sank deep into the creature's side, skewering it. It shrieked and flailed. He twisted. It went silent.

Then a flaming arrow flew past his shoulder, temporarily frightening off a second worg. Imoen regained his side, drawing another fiery arrow from her quiver as she hefted up a bulky hobgoblin short bow. "Lead! Got your back!" she told him.

* * *

"It is clearly hopeless. We shall simply have to let the dullard die, shed our tears, and carve a nice epitaph on his gravestone. Something like, 'Squeek... squeek squeekers squeek... Squeek...' "

Dynaheir glared at Edwin with a wrath that could melt mountains. He winked at her.

"I am not certain how one human man managed to endure with this much poison in his system," Viconia confessed as she and Branwen finished applying the bulk of their _Slow Poison_ capability all just to Minsc.

Dynaheir turned a hesitant and slightly suspicious look on the drow, for all that the woman was fast becoming her friend. Then she sighed and looked back to Minsc. Boo was running about in concerned circles on his chest.

"Hold in there big guy!" Aegis exclaimed. There was a chicken riding on her head, inexplicably. "Kagain and I need you at the drinking table tonight!"

The dwarf laughed, counting his purse coin to make sure none of it had gone missing. "That's a truth!" he agreed. "These pigs had a good spot of gold on them. More than I was making watching my caravans burn, for sure, and good sport ta' boot."

Aegis clasped the dwarf on the shoulder. "That's the spirit!

"I'll not... orphan... my hamster!" Minsc gargled. "Ooh, pretty... ladies..." Banwen chuckled.

"I do not know if it is appropriate of me to highlight another disagreement so soon, but..." Viconia began, standing slowly. "He... is an issue..." She lifted a hand slowly, pointing back to where Ajantis was standing quite some distance from the rest of the group, looking quietly around at the dead bandits and their hounds. He noticed their stares and lifted his gaze to them, looking incredibly conflicted.

"He held back," Edwin agreed quietly, "and contributed next to nothing, either defensively or offensively. I mean if I did that, I doubt anyone would notice. But I assume it is particularly bad coming from a paladin, when there was quite obviously a damsel in distress."

"I'll go talk to him," Aegis decided. "Here, hold Melicamp. Don't worry, he's housebroken," she plopped the chicken on Viconia's head and then turned to head over to the confused holy knight. The cleric remained there, halted midmotion, a baffled expression screwing up her face.

"Why...?" she asked slowly. Dynaheir stared in horror for a moment. Then, with a big grin, the witch came up and removed the chicken from his impending doom, and held him comfortably in both arms.

Imoen and Xan returned then with the rest of the purses and began handing them out to their owners. Edwin's smile faded as he got a good look at the girl for the first time since she'd been held hostage. As she came up to give him his purse, he grabbed her arm and lifted his other hand to touch a wound over her collar where the hobgoblin had pressed his blade.

"I'm fine," she told the Red Wizard, whose gaze flit meaningfully to her face. Then he gave a gesture of his chin and eyes, indicating he wanted to walk off to the side and speak with her privately. Imoen nodded in understanding, distributed the rest of the gold back to its proper keeping, and then dusted off her hands and accompanied the Red Wizard some distance away from the others.

* * *

{It seems you found yourself in need of a melee weapon,} the wizard observed dryly as they walked. {And the dagger you might have used, well, you had spurned it...}

Imoen grinned. {Suppose I did!} Her face sobered. {Thank you. For the save. For- I couldn't think of anything much till I saw you mouthing the words. Then I thought about the spell and realized I could do it.}

{Yes, yes, you are a very good little chimp,} he waved irritably, turning about to face her with a gleam in his eyes. He was up to something. {Of course...} he tapped his nails against one another thoughtfully, "...you also chose to cast a spell in front of the entire party. Which (giving their intelligence no small benefit of the doubt) one supposes they noticed. If I'm not mistaken, this... invalidates your stance of hiding your magic. Does it not?}

Imoen squirmed a little. {Well, I had to do something!}

{Agreed and so you did; but what comes afterwards, little girl? Thus far you have pursued magic as... a side amusement. A... _hobby_,} he gestured at her roguish kit and stressed the word 'hobby' with clear distaste.

{I just wanted to be left alone about it,} Imoen argued. {I mean- you _know_ what I mean- I do not want to be a wizard, I just wanted to-}

{Your secret is bared and you are in the company of three wizards,} he interrupted. {I might even believe you were willing to squander your memory on parlor tricks were it not for your aggravating _curiosity_ no doubt pulling you forward to learn more. If you decline to pursue further magical insight out of this silly... _fear_ of monks you have, I shall be... mildly _disappointed_ might be the word. ('Driven to homicidal incredulity by the backwards, bardic irony of the universe' is admittedly a bit of a mouthful, but we'll keep that to ourselves...)}

Imoen was a bit taken aback. {Three wizards? You said you would _never_ tutor me in magic.}

{And, eh, now I have changed my mind,} he answered as if it meant nothing at all, though his eyes still gleamed. He was carefully placing down the walls of his mousetrap, and he needed to be careful not to startle his prey before the last one fell into place.

{And what about your organization's rules about apprentices who aren't Thayvian nobility?}

He waved an arm, uncaring. {Details, details, you bore me. We are not in Thay; you are not by name an apprentice; interpret legal phrasing only as it suits you, child.}

The thief frowned. {Why would you even want to teach me? All because I can remember spells on the fly?}

Edwin scowled at her. {Have I _not _been teaching you?} he asked her with a sneer. {For all that I have not called it that, it seems you have learned quite a bit since we became 'friends.' Do you deny that?}

{No...} she agreed after a moment. She had most certainly noticed as much. It was interesting to actually hear him say so out loud.

{Good. Do not prod at generosity lest it crumble. Now I am outlining a decision for you: If you choose to accept _my_ help, then you will tell the others no more than I am tutoring you and that you currently prepare from my spellbook. This is not an uncommon setup for a novice, and technically it is also a truth. But you will not mention your ability to recall spells to _anyone_.}

Imoen folded her arms over her chest. {Xan would want to teach me, too.}

He laughed. {Xan would-? No, stupid child. I will not have another wizard questioning my methods, nor will I _share_ influence over your learning. You do not get to pick teachers like you pick your bards, running from tail to tail as it pleases you. If you accept my offer, you answer to me alone.}

She lifted a brow, and he smirked as he gestured towards the party and explained: {I have no patience for such scrutiny. Where now it almost looks _cute_ to see me babying you; should they know your value, they will assume my intentions are malicious.}

Imoen pursed her lips to the side in a thinking expression, tipping her hood back to scrutinize his face. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be pushed in the direction Edwin wanted to head. {And are they? Malicious.}

He gave a slow, predatory grin. {Perhaps. They are certainly not altruistic. Teaching you means making an _investment _of my time, and investments are intended to provide returns. (And occasionally perks...)}

She grinned; Edwin had misread her if he thought this was the way to get serious concessions. {And if I refuse? If I just blurt out to everyone that I can remember magic so easily? I have no interest in wizarding, and never have. And I'm not much into answering to _anyone_.}

He snorted. {Your reasons for eschewing magic are imbecilic. You hate the mantle of wizard; but not the Weave herself.}

Imoen thought on that because he did have a point... She had been positively itchy with delight in High Hedge.

{If you refuse, then I wipe my hands of you. Your foolishness has cost me the element of surprise in demonstrating that I am indeed healing, but I will still be ready to leave in a few days. I have... allies... east of Beregost who will be interested in hearing how close Dynaheir's party will be drifting. (And if that is the only way...)}

The thief tensed, but then frowned angrily at him. {You are honestly saying you are staying with us just to hover over me? I do not believe you, and I think you are bluffing. You already seemed inclined to stay long after it was clear Aegis would not let you near Dynaheir. I even said as much to you.}

Edwin grinned wolfishly. {Bluffing? Maybe.} He stepped closer to her, looming over her with that predatory smile on his face. {But I know how to motivate you. I know what you fear.}

{Oh yeah? Try me,} she smirked.

{Betrayal,} he answered and watched the grin leave her face. {The idea of me turning against the group; of standing against me; of me killing her, or of her killing me; fills you with _dread_.}

The pink thief stepped back from him, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He laughed at her. {Do you think your manipulative insight works only in one direction? Do you think I have not paid equally careful attention to you?} He stepped closer again. {I frighten you; because you cannot see a clear motivation for me to stay. You will do _anything_ to cement me more firmly to the party. I am asking for very little, and you operate under the delusion that somehow companionship can keep me from my mission. So you will humor me.}

{I... I-} she grimaced, surprised at the direction this conversation had spun. {It never stopped _Montaron_, and I think I learned that lesson the first time!}

{Your only value to the halfling was as a playmate; a warm crevasse,} he responded, earning him a livid glare in exchange. {Hush now, do not rise to that. Trust my _motives_, if not my character. Do you think I would part with something as integral to myself as my _magic_ without the intention of following through? (By contrast, it is certainly a higher-priced gift to leave behind with a woman than a man's cum...)}

Imoen looked ready to breath fire at him, an ugly scowl dragging her lips low. She hadn't assaulted him, but Edwin briefly recalled that the blunt approach had not earned him any success during its last usage.

{(Hnh... Let us try this one more time...) Think, girl. I _know_ what you are. I know your capabilities. I still placed my _spellbook_ voluntarily into your hands and instructed you to read it. Do you for a _moment_ believe I would do that if I intended for you to end up on the opposite end of a wizard duel from me?}

Frustrated, angry, but suddenly astounded, Imoen gaped at him. She was _that_ valuable? That rare? Imoen reasoned that her gift must have been unusual for Elminster to have been curious, but this was different. To hear Edwin even _imply _(whether he meant it or not) that he'd trade teaching _her_ for completing his mission was... was... well she _knew_ Edwin, and that somehow drove it closer to home. Edwin didn't think much of anyone but himself.

Seeing he'd made an impression at last, Edwin smiled. {Look at this polymorphed fool of Thalantyr's; An imbecile whom the magi clearly despises, yet he has spent a considerable number of his resources to bring him back safely. A student, whether we call it 'apprentice' or otherwise, is a long-term investment. (Does she honestly believe we would tolerate her grating voice for an instant if we did not have plans for her?)}

{You nearly _killed_ me half a week ago!} she protested. Edwin grimaced slightly, as if the memory disagreed with him.

{No,} he answered firmly. {As much as I enjoyed your disillusioned expression (And I did), I inevitably intended your survival.}

{You are a terrible liar.} She was mad at him for thinking he could hit her below the belt about Montaron and then just keep talking. Probably, he didn't _quite_ realize how unacceptable it was to do so.

He frowned at her. {(She knows.) You... (Then what do I say?) you caught me in a moment of weakness.} Then he sneered at the admission.

{_Weakness_? I am the one who almost died!} she hissed back grumpily, her anger mitigated slightly by the fact that she had clearly caught him off guard. He almost looked like he felt guilty. _Almost_.

He scowled and didn't answer her, looking angrily anywhere but at her face.

Imoen peered up at him, considering everything she knew about the man. Then she stepped back and took an unyielding stance. {I hate being cooped up or told what to do,} she told him. {I have no patience for my elders, my da, my tutors, or the 'masters' telling me how to behave, none!}

He turned his glower on her.

{I hoot and holler in the face of authority, if I am going to read I will do it upside down in a tree if it pleases me, and I do not properly respect anyone!}

He continued to stare at her.

{I am the polar opposite of obedient, I steal things and pull pranks whenever I disapprove of someone, and I have no respect for any rules; except maybe rules of thumb!}

He continued to stare, but a knowing smirk was twitching at the corner of his mouth. She lifted her nose haughtily at him. He tilted his head to the side. {Like a monkey?} he asked her.

{Yes!} she announced with regal authority. {And so I reject any and all formal apprentice-hood and demand to be rewarded for each and every minuscule success with bananas and a pat on the head.}

The expression on his face was haughty, irritated, manipulative, eager, possessive, and diabolical; but almost as if summoned forth by magic, she saw a streak of fondness staring back down at her. _You are just a man. My goal is to remember I always have and cannot lose equal footing with you._

{Make your decision girl,} he told her almost lazily. {I have no time or patience for your dramatics. (And less for that cheeky grin on your face, disrespectful little cur.)}

She nodded. {I will _let_ you teach me,} she told him, and his brows narrowed in irritation. {I will not tell anyone else about my memory, or share your spells. But I will _not_ call you 'master.' In fact, I make no promise to listen to you at all.}

He tapped his nails together, considering. Then he smirked. {Time enough for that,} he decided. {Obedience is _trained_, not promised. Tell me little girl, have you ever seen a man break a horse?} She lifted a brow. He chuckled. {Fine. It is agreed to.}

Imoen smirked abruptly and then tackled him. _That_ wiped the full set of expressions off of his face, replacing them with an indignant confusion as she hugged him. {Thank you for helping to save me, Dragon.}

He snarled, grabbing her shoulders and forcefully prying her off of him. {None of that! Get your grimy little peasant hands off of me and go find some suitable melee weapon before I sully myself by taking the elf's suggestion and buffet you round the ears.}

{What? Oh fine,} she giggled as he pushed her backwards. {Hold on, I must have something in my pack.} She eased the container in question off her back and began rummaging through it. Amusingly enough, the most valuable pack on the team had already been in the hobgoblins' possession the whole time.

Glancing over Imoen's head, Edwin noticed both Dynaheir and Xan were staring at him from across the rocky battlefield. The sight put a wide, contented grin on his face. He had not anticipated Imoen forcing him to move so early, and he had wanted more time to prepare his position so that he could be the one making demands. But he'd been quick on his feet and gotten to her in time. His little pet project was secured.

* * *

"Ajantis?" Aegis called as she wove past the worgs to join him.

The paladin didn't lift his head. "I failed the group," he said.

"Erm. Well, everyone's _alive_," Aegis proffered. "So it could have been worse."

"I was called on to stand with my companions and fight. Yet I lagged behind, even as an innocent young woman was in danger..." He looked as if he felt incredibly heavy with the weight of the world.

"About that..."

Ajantis looked at her. "How can you travel with such people? With the red mage and the... the... the cleric- Is what they said about you true? Were you involved with a necromancer? That man you sent off with the face tattoos?"

Aegis crossed her arms, lifting a brow. "Look me in the face and call me a monster. Look into my eyes, and tell me I must be evil or corrupted or malicious. Or, if you can't, call me _manipulated_, or blind. Tell me my party controls me. Tell me they've got me on strings."

The paladin hesitated, not certain what to do.

Aegis leaned back on the balls of her feet, straightening up and nodding. "My company is not allowed to kill innocent people, Ajantis. They are gathered together to wipe out the bandit camp. What else really matters?"

"The struggle of light over darkness," the paladin told her. "And you incubate darkness under your wings! Can you not hear it brewing in their voices? They advertise their sins openly!"

"I couldn't care less what people talk about if they aren't spilling blood. I'm sure you feel differently and, make no mistake, so do a lot of people traveling with me. But while they're here, they've bound themselves to _me_, which means my interpretation goes. We do not kill each other. We do not kill civilians. We didn't kill the last collection of well-meaning people who tried to murder Viconia-"

"You ignore the existence of the Law! You ignore the existence of rules that clearly define a strict morality for all peoples to follow! That cannot be argued."

"Don't be stupid, Ajantis. The law changes from region to region. Everything Viconia's spoken of so far occurred in the Underdark, or as a result of someone trying to kill her. And Edwin is from Thay, where the law is extraordinarily well-defined and everything he talks about was incredibly legal. If we end up in Thay, are you going to turn into a slaver?"

"Gods, no! You cannot tell me you think to uphold the validity of law in such wretched places, or excuse the ungodly acts performed therein!" he protested.

"Okay, Ajantis, which laws should we used to evaluate the entire world and people born into vastly different cultures who were fed entirely different dogmatic diets up until to the moment they showed up here on the Sword Coast? Baldur's Gate's Law? Waterdeep's? Cornmyr? Amnish? Should I ah... lock up all my wizards?"

"N-no-!" He grimaced, backing up. "Why are you taking this stance? Surely you can tell the clear difference between good and evil! Select Baldur's Gate's jurisdiction-"

"Like the evil of unregulated magic?" Aegis asked tactfully. "Corrupting and deviant and dragging us all to sin?"

"The Shar woman has spoken of pleasure slaves!" he protested.

"She was Drow nobility," Aegis argued. "It takes a hell of an experience for a person to _change _everything their long life has ever poured into them. But it's irrelevant. I don't care _what_ Viconia talks about, as long as she doesn't have any pleasure slaves _now_."

"Given the chance-!"

"And if her functional innocence isn't good enough for you, then you need to get _away_ from me after we get back to Beregost. Because if you ever use steel against any member of my party other than in self defense? I will protect them from you."_  
_

"Aiding evil _is_ evil," he told her fiercely. "Don't you know that? Can't you see that? Can't you even imagine how disastrous this will turn if nothing is done? Evil must be purged where it is found, even among 'companions!'"

"Evil?" Aegis asked. "You stood by and did nothing while someone was in _danger_. While my _baby sister_ was in danger. Edwin, Dynaheir, and Xan rescued Imoen," she snarled. "Who is the hero, today, Ajantis? Edwin? Edwin and Dynaheir are _mortal enemies_, sworn to slay each other. Both are bracing themselves for what will happen when one leaves the party, but they were together the heaviest contributors to Imoen's rescue."

The paladin's brow furrowed. "Enemies?"

"Wychlaran and Red Wizard. Mortal enemies. So are elves and drow, but Xan's the one who disguises Viconia in town. So, I don't care about descriptions, Ajantis, or words like 'evil.' The fact that you seem to think you have some mandate from heaven notwithstanding, I care about actions. Anyone who abides by me, I will protect. Anyone who brings harm onto _mine_ or onto innocents, I will revisit harm onto them tenfold. It's that simple, and it's not up for debate. Because that's what _I_ do, Ajantis, and we're following _me_. I _protect_." With that she turned and began heading away.

"W-why do they follow you?" he asked. Aegis glanced back at him.

"I do what I say I will," she answered. "For you, I imagine that means I will take down that bandit camp, and that I will keep a bunch of volatile people from killing civilians."

"If... if they h-hurt... _anyone_," he muttered.

She just nodded.

* * *

Aegis walked back up to the others. As she arrived, she placed her hand on Xan's shoulder. [I want you to watch the paladin. Closely. If you see a problem, diffuse it.]

Xan nodded, and then gestured to where Edwin and Imoen were talking. [What do you want to do about him?]

The ranger glanced at them in irritation. [Him? Pray to Besheba and Talona that he catches the clap. That would be a just dessert. They're women; I think they might be persuaded to listen. Why? What's on your mind? Is this about them getting along? Didn't we already have a similar conversation and Imoen shut us down?]

[Did you know she was capable of magic?] Xan asked after a moment.

[Ah. I know if he lured her down out of _that_ tree, there are surely some Candlekeep monks who will want to give him a medal. Let him be. He just helped rescue the one and only person in the party he seems to genuinely like. What do you want me to say?]

[You don't worry he's plotting something?]

[I _assume_ he is. I also assume Imoen can play the same game. That girl isn't exactly easy to steer, and I'd rather her keeping tabs on him than leave him alone to brood. No. I'm significantly more worried about her bard problem, and I can't do a damn thing about that because I probably would do the same exact thing in her shoes. You should try talking to her now and then, though. Gently.]

[I can do that,] Xan agreed.

* * *

Kagain is sort of a funny NPC. He's lawful evil, but sort of in the incredibly mild interpretation of the alignment. After being with the PC for awhile he basically just realizes he likes following you around and killing whatever you point at it; its so much more satisfying than running caravans ever was. XD. He strikes me as the kind of character that just gets absorbed in the PCs Charisma, and regardless of their alignment or intent ends up just following them everywhere for shits, giggles, constant gear upgrades, money, and booze XD.

Dwarvishly Loyal, in fact! Unless someone like Yeslick incites him... :3


	14. Ajantis is Mostly Silent

"Melicamp, you are _no_ apprentice of mine!"

The chicken cowered from his master's glare. "B-bu-bcAW-but m-master!"

"A student wishes to LEARN, while you, fool, wish only for knowledge! I should never have permitted you into my sanctum in the first place. I will tutor no one who cannot appreciate education! You _stole_ from me! Ha! Did you get the quick gratification you wanted?!" the mage mock.

{Wait, did he have us track Melicamp down for the thievery?} Imoen asked Edwin, who shrugged.

{Hush, child.}

"You spoke of so much b-but showed so l-little!" the chicken pleaded. "I only wished to bc-AWW! learn a fraction o-of your p-power!"

"Power is _nothing_ without wisdom, little fool! It has taken me fifty-odd years of life to gain the power I wield, and the will _not_ to use it unless necessary!"

{Not to use it? Didn't he turn into a dragon just to look for Melicamp?}

{This is a lecture. Facts do not matter if the lesson is learned. In fact, pay attention. If we are extraordinarily lucky, something will sink into that obnoxious head of yours and spare me the trouble*. (Not that I am counting on it, but one can always hope-)} Wince.

"You are but a _baby_ in comparison," Thalantyr snapped. "Frankly, I'm surprised you changed into such a mature chicken! How did you manage that, by the way? You were muddling the simplest cantrip when last I observed you!"

"I have been progressing m-much!" Melicamp protested. "I-I tried to b-bcaw! borrow a few i-items to accelerate my p-pace!"

{Borrowed,} Edwin told her. {Hmm, that reminds me of someone, but who?} Monkey stuck her tongue out at him.

"Progress! As I thought," Thalantyr huffed. "Well! It's obvious that while you can steal my tools you can hardly acquire my understanding of them, useless little fool!"

Melicamp quailed. "P-please, M-master, I am s-so sorry!"

The mage snarled. "You _will_ be. Hold still while I dispel this foolishness, as I cannot very well get back my property while it is poly... wait." A perplexed look overcame his face as he scratched his chin and looked around the sanctum. "I... I do not believe I possessed _any_ items that would allow such a transformation and... oh dear..." He looked with stern eyes back down to the chicken. "Melicamp, listen _very_ carefully. What did you take?"

"N-nothing too valuable!" the apprentice begged, because he had never meant to truly inconvenience his master, much less cause such a hectic state of affairs. "Just some bc-bcaww! components, a-a few scrolss, a beat-up p-pair of bracers, a blank spellbook, ink, p-parchment-"

Thalantyr was looking at nothing, clearly trying to place where the trouble had come from. "A... a pair of... oh no, you little _fool_! The bracers in my locked and trapped safe!?"

{Okay, yeah,} Imoen confessed guiltily, {this definitely sounds like 'someone.'}

{Reasons Imoen should not touch the Red Wizard's things, number seventy two...}

Thalantyr was wearing a bitter grimace. "I certainly hope you can developed a taste for chicken feed, because you are going to be stuck the way you are for a very long time!" he exclaimed, dismayed.

"Please master!" Melicamp begged. "I know I stole from you and I am so sorry, but don't leave me like this! Please, Master Thalantyr, please-!"

"It is not a matter of whether I wish to help or not; I genuinely do not have the knowledge to undo what you have done!"

That got the attention of the party members who had stayed inside to witness Melicamp's fate and weren't out dispatching gnolls around High Hedge's entryway. Aegis was out there, so Imoen ended up addressing Thalantyr instead. "Hey, wait! Really? What sort of item could cause such a problem for even a mage like yourself? Magic items seem to be your, erm, _thing._"

Thalantyr sighed heavily. "I am _surrounded_ by pups," he muttered. "Very well, I shall _humor_ you with an explanation. The Weave as we see it today was not always in such a state. You are setting out to make adventurers of yourself, and if you are heading into Ulcaster you should head this wisdom: Not every bauble you wring from a dungeon will help as opposed to harm! Identify _everything_ with magic before putting it to use"

"You're saying the bracers were really ancient?" the thief asked, confused, but it looked like Thalantyr was muttering more to himself than anyone else.

"The bracers in question were a vain little reminder of... well... it doesn't really matter, does it? Suffice to say I have no idea what their intended function was and I was in no position to ask their former owner! Years have passed since my... release, and the spoils of that Netheril ruin remain as enigmatic as ever..."

Edwin was immediately interested, but said nothing, watching the mage with a new form of curiousity.

Melicamp slowly swayed back and forward and then plopped onto his rear. "I activated a Netherese artifact?" he asked his master weakly. When Thalanyr nodded, he looked down at his clawed feet. "I am the _worst apprentice ever_," he realized. He wiggled and then looked pathetically up at the mage, who was studying him with a thoughtful hand over his chin and mouth. "Master... Master, please do not send me away! I... I don't have hands... but if I go out there I am only fit for a circus or breakfast! Don't cast me out! I can learn! I don't have hands... I must be good for something! Please!"

"Then stop making a racket while I am trying to think," the magus muttered.

"Is there anything _we_ can do to help. Anything?" Imoen pressed.

Thalantyr sighed. "Fetch me another round of of skulls, if you would," he requested of them. "I may be able to use such chaotic magic to form a breach... Leave me be; I need to prepare." He turned and stormed off, waving a hand to summon various components and materials to his side.

Melicamp wiggled up to his feet, and hopped after his master. Maybe he could become some sort of familiar...

Imoen glanced to Edwin. {What's Netheril?} she asked upon seeing his expression. {History was never my thing.}

{Obviously. Let us fetch what he wants. If this magus is going to try and counter a Netherese enchantment, I want to be here to watch it. This would be no ordinary miracle for the chicken in question.}

* * *

When they had brought him the skulls he requested, Thalantyr waved a hand where he'd settled down with numerous books, old inscriptions and blank parchment. He was rapidly scribbling away. "Place them over there, thank you," he muttered.

"I'm guessing this ritual will not be completed any time soon?" Xan prodded curiously.

"I need at least a week if not longer," he grumbled, barely paying any attention to them.

"Then if it is not a terrible inconvenience," the elf asked, "would you mind... if we returned when the spell is ready to watch the casting?"

Thalantyr paused and looked up at the gaggle of curious wizards and one thief he had attracted. They were, admittedly, a significantly more desirable audience than Melicamp. There was little reason to amass so much knowledge over one's life and then pass it on to no one; and Thalantyr was not getting younger. Still, the spell he was about to write was the culmination of a lifetime of spelunking, tomb raiding, lucky run-ins with Netherese artifacts. _If_ he was successful- and there was no guarantee of that- crafting this spell would prove one of his most significant life works. Was he willing to share it with three strangers?

"It could no doubt help me when this one inevitably curses herself into a sardine," Edwin drawled, pointing one claw at Imoen.

"A wizard can go their whole life without encountering such an artifact, much less work with one," Dynaheir admitted. "While certainly we are imposing on thee just by asking, we cannot help ourselves. It may be one of the only opportunities we ever have see such a thing."

"You are as vampyric as Melicamp," Thalantyr growled. "My intuition took a lifetime of dedication to develop. You think to pluck the fruits through a few favors and some casual observation?"

"Well that's fine!" Imoen giggled. "At least the next time we go dungeon crawling and accidentally curse ourselves with ancient artifacts, we'll know exactly where to come for help!"

The magus twitched. Imoen beamed innocently. Thalantyr sneered and then looked to Edwin. "You are a Red Wizard. If you ever come to this sanctum unescorted, you will leave on the breeze as a puff of ash. You are also not welcome to the ritual. The rest of you may come. Now get out of my sight, fools, I need to work," he muttered, going back to his books. "I will warn you twenty-four hours beforehand, and will wait no longer than that."

Edwin scowled irritably, not certain whether to be insulted or complemented. He might have argued with the wizard over being the only one present who might possibly appreciate or comprehend the ritual, when Imoen tugged on his arm to get him to leave with her and the others. He glanced at her, and it soothed his manipulative spirit to know that Thalantyr was unknowingly letting an arcane eidetic spy in to the ritual. Yes, this was definitely something to conceal about her for as long as possible.

* * *

As the group headed back to Beregost, their drudgery was broken by fights with skeletons and quiet conversation. At times he looked uncertainly to Viconia or Aegis, as if trying to understand something.

Owed to the sheer curiosity of the Netherese bracers, Dynaheir and Xan were actually mildly sympathetic to Edwin's exclusion from the ritual; but surprisingly he did not complain. Whatever discussion had gone on between Imoen and he back at the canyon, it appeared to have put him into a good mood. Aegis didn't seem interested in asking questions about the _Burning Hands_ spell; many of the group members were too new to really notice; and Minsc and Branwen chalked the event up to the same basic reasons Imoen could use wands. Ajantis was mostly silent.

{Edwin, the ritual Thalantyr is writing... it could backfire badly, couldn't it?} she asked. {Worse than the original chickenification.}

{That is not a word. And it does not work to take your cute, Thorasta mannerisms and try to drag them into a language like Mulhorandi.}

{You still understood what I meant, so it _did_ work!}

He grimaced. {She knows not how she adulterates such a beautiful language... Yes, child, it could turn deadly for the caster.}

{So for all of those scathing remarks, that was just a grumpy old man giving his biggest and most blustery lecture? I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean maybe it got the point across, but Melicamp looked like he wanted to sink into the earth. What a grump.}

{And now she is interjecting more and more Thorasta into her Mulhorandi sentences... As I said, waif, an apprentice is an investment. Melicamp, I would have sold to a circus. But a student with any real potential would be worth any lecture that kept them alive, obedient, and progressing. Ah. The elf wants you.}

Xan had slipped back alongside Imoen with a curious expression. Dynaheir looked about to do likewise. "Are you ready to talk to us about the hobgoblins, yet?" he asked curiously.

Imoen blew out a sigh and blushed, looking at the ground for a moment. "Ehm. _Burning Hands_."

Dynaheir waited for them. "Young one, I knew thou had a curiosity for the magical arts, and we all understood your fascination with draconic... But I assumed if thou were ready to learn and interested in testing yourself for the talent, that thou would have come to me..."

"I... I don't... I didn't mean any offense and its not like I don't trust you both, but I never really wanted to learn to cast magic. I just... I just liked reading it, if, ya know, that makes any sense at all."

"Well! Thou most certainly cast magic on this day," Dynaheir chuckled with a gentle smile. "Has thy interest in magic finally bloomed then? How did thee prepare such a spell? Hast thou been hiding a spellbook from us?"

"Edwin... Edwin has been letting me prepare from his spells," Imoen said, because it was essentially true.

Elf and witch looked curiously to the Thayvian because, while this explanation did follow logically from what they had seen in the caravan, the whole thing still seemed preposterous. When Dynaheir had loaned Imoen her spellbook, she had done so as a friendly gesture with the knowledge that the girl was harmlessly curious.

By contrast, Edwin could hardly be called altruistic, and it felt more likely that he had given Imoen his own spellbook to read as a form of power play as opposed to genuine interest. The Thayvian grinned a little under their scrutiny, but did not look at them.

"Well, now that thou are practicing magic, I confess to both excitement and curiosity," Dynaheir said, lookign back to Imoen. "How long hast thou known thee had the talent for magic? I suppose it does not matter. I would be _delighted_ to teach thee some of the craft."

"No!" Imoen exclaimed, surprisingly even Edwin with her sharpness of tone and causing a few other party members to glance at them. "I mean, er... I haven't changed? I'm not practicing magic; I'm exactly the same!"

"That was no simple light cantrip," Dynaheir noted with amusement. "Why are thou so shy in demeanor? Fear not, it would be an honor and no bother at all. Thou hast much to catch up on, so much foundation! Mm, we can try and pick up some books in Beregost..."

"I don't- Dynaheir, heya, wait up for a sec! I still don't want to be a wizard or anything, you know?"

"Why not?" the witch asked with a smile. "How can you know what you would enjoy if you do not try? Between all of us and our friends, I have no doubt that once you master the fundamentals, we could find you _quite_ the school or apprenticeship to further your skills. You have the Harpers on one end and-"

"I don't want that!" Imoen protested, starting to look upset. "Look, thank ya for taking an interest and all, but I just want to be left alone on the matter! I like reading magic, that's true, but that's the end of it!"

Dynaheir frowned, not understanding. She glanced at Xan, who had yet to say much and whom was watching Imoen intently. Then she looked back to the pink girl and opened her mouth to say something.

"If you do not mind, witch, I must request that you let the girl alone," Edwin drawled smugly. "Lest you upset her with your inane babble on her magical career opportunities. She already has a tutor. Leave it at that."

"Thou wishes to play at teacher?" Dynaheir asked doubtfully, because this did not seem a hallmark of a sane reality. "I would 'ware your intentions if so!"

Of course, Edwin thought, as neither Dynaheir nor Xan understood Imoen's value, it was hard to truly gloat over them. No doubt his self-satisfaction would trigger their curiosity, something he would have to deflect one way or another. "My intentions? This one made a deal with me to teach her some magic at her leisure," the Thayvian answered suavely. "Not that it is exactly any of your business what other people do with their free time."

"What form of deal?" the witch asked with narrowed eyes, glancing at Imoen to see if the girl was in any distress. Imoen was in distress, but not because she'd somehow entered herself into Edwin's slavery.

"What form do you think? (My, my, there is a dirty mind in there after all- Nn.) Are you daft, Rashemi?" the Red Wizard mused laughingly, trying to ignore Imoen's pinch. "I asked her to _steal_ something for me, of course."

Dynaheir looked ready to argue there was absolutely no reason for the unfriendly cut-throat Red Wizard to teach a thief he partially despised anything at all about magic unless he was manipulating her; but Xan grasped her shoulder to stop her, and gently urged her to regain her normal place in formation. She did so, slowly.

"Xan?" Imoen asked uncertainly.

The elf turned his gaze back to her and offered this: "Whether you want to become the next Chosen of Mystra or simply read a little draconic on the side, we are still your friends," he observed. "I am certain Edwin is already at working making sure you do not explode us all in our sleep, so I suppose there is nothing else witty to say to you. Do attempt to minimize collateral damage, and find me if you would like to talk."

"Thank you, Xan, but I'm fine," Imoen replied; though she didn't exactly seem fine. The enchanter nodded, as if he had expected this answer. Then he resumed his place in line.

Imoen walked in silence for awhile thereafter. She noticed a few people, Ajantis included, glanced at her to make sure she was okay. She forced a smile for them.

* * *

{I spy a crack in your armor,} the Thayvian purred quietly after a few minutes of quiet, once Dynaheir had started up a conversation with Viconia. Imoen shot him a look. {But it is a mysterious crack. You were so bold asking for me to teach you magic in exchange for Xzar's spellbook, and reasonably willing to accept my offer, yet you recoiled from dearest Dynaheir like she carried the plague.}

{Sod off, I do not want to hear this topic right now,} she grumbled.

The Thayvian smirked down at here. {Come now child, are we not _friends_? Did you not just agree to my mentorship? What _ever_ can you not tell _me_?}

{Edwin, I'm cranky right now,} the Monkey told him firmly. {No.}

But Imoen had hooked the Thayvian's curiosity and there was little else to do while walking for hours, so after a moment he continued: {Tell me about your fear of monks, waif.} She winced. {Yes, you are clearly compromised on some front; more than I had initially anticipated.} Imoen gave him a stink eye. {She who can speak for hours on end is strangely silent? No, this will not do, not when I actually have questions. Come now, Monkey, enlighten me as to what sort of mistake the Wychlaran just ran into. I should like to avoid it. (Or use it-Nn!)}

Imoen sighed. {You can talk to me privately back in Beregost,} she muttered. {Leave me alone now.}

{Ah? Before or after all of the barding and wenching?} he teased, leaning over a little to peer at her face as he was quiet sure she was distressed and he was enjoying it. She glared at him. {I believe our modifications to that bet were satisfactory, by the way. But if I might propose a few slight changes?}

{Well...} she drawled. {What were you suggesting? I think we need to establish the point of the bet again. Did you make up a Mulhorandi word, by the way? 'Barding.'}

{... (Damn her, I have!) ... I can do that. I am a native speaker,} he claimed.

{Uh-huh. Sure you can. You absolutely did not absorb making up words from me at all.} She grinned cheekily up at him.

{Sometimes I am _overwhelmed_ with great hatred for your buoyancy, child. You are _so_ irritating.}

* * *

They reached Beregost just prior to evening. After dropping off their gear, Imoen eluded Edwin and hopped up to Xar, lacing her arm in the crook of own. "Pigeons?" she asked him hopefully, and he almost-smiled and nodded. The Thayvian watched them go irritably, and then spied Dynaheir quickly following Aegis into her own room on the other side of the floor.

_Oh_?

Halfway to the messenger house, Xan turned his gaze on Imoen and tilted his head to the side. "I was wondering if you might be persuaded to tell me what happened to you?"

"Hmm? What's up now?"

The elf considered his words carefully. "When you were forestalling Dynaheir it was apparent to me that you had undergone some kind of trauma."

Imoen grimaced. It looked as if the mere mention of the topic could cause her to lock up and prevent further conversation; not even to acknowledge that _anything_ had happened. "Xan, leave it lie."

"Then I want you to promise never to tell me," the elf told her.

Imoen frowned. "What?"

"Promise never to tell me, and I will promise never to ask," the elf responded.

"I... I don't understand, but, okay. I promise."

He nodded. "Good. Now that you know you are safe- and that by no means in all Faerun are we allowed to discuss certain topics further... I would like to turn your attention to _another_ topic which otherwise would have remained closed to us"

She lifted a brow. "What do you mean?"

"Gangrene," Xan told her. "Wounds are dangerous. They become diseased if untended. Ignoring them doesn't preserve them in a time stop, or keep them from decay. It doesn't protect them from further harm. Healing a wound the mundane way- as I have done at times- often means purging it with fire or boiling water. It is very painful. We even go into shock. But all wounds need tending, whether it is by oneself, or with aid." She eyed him uncertainly. "Even... the most confusing ones. Even spiritual ones, Imoen. That's all I have to say."

Imoen was quiet for a bit. Then she tilted her head to the side. "Are all adventurer's crazy? Or are we unusual?"

"Being an 'adventurer' verges on being masochistic," Xan answered. "The average man worries about the health of his pumpkin crop, the safety of his children, and the fidelity of his wife. But us? We kill together. We _bleed_ together. We see terrible things together, and we stand a real possibility of dying together. Whether we hate each other or we love each other; it has to work somehow because we're constantly living cramped together without real privacy. The constant adrenaline and sense of mortality is enough to affect the appearance of madness, if nothing more severe. Yes, while we remain on this route, everything about us will be abnormal. And that is, perversely, normal."

"How are you doing?" she thought to ask.

"People ask that a lot, but I am never sure what to say because the varies by the moment. I assume as you all have more objective memories of the last few weeks, that you are actually more qualified to judge my sanity than I am."

"So you're asking me how you are doing? Well then! You seem much improved to me. And you definitely look healthier in the face. You were a little jaundiced when we found you." Hearing this seemed to reassure him. "You're still as scrawny as a melicamp, though."

"Oh... Oh! Oh please don't tell me you are going to refer to every chicken you see as a melicamp...!"

"Barbacued melicamp wings, melicamp soup, roasted melicamp on a spit!"

Xan groaned defeatedly. "That _poor_ boy... I truly hope Thalantyr knows what he is doing."

They reached their destination at last, and after determining the fee for setting out a bird they purchased some paper and ink. Imoen had to think on the message for a bit, but Xan stayed with her. They ended up having to buy several more sheets of paper, and stayed there for a very long time so Imoen could write up the perfect message. When they finished, Imoen wiped her face a few times and then sighed.

"Do... do you mind going back to the Juggler alone?" she asked tentatively.

"I would be happy to walk with you," Xan noted. "Your sister has asked no one to go anywhere alone."

"I've run out of bards," Imoen explained bashfully.

Xan blinked. "Ah." He considered this. "I would be happy to wait for you in the tavern of your choosing, and turn a blind eye to your behavior. I do not want to leave you entirely alone."

"Well that's awkward. Sounds like a plan!" she agreed, and looped her arm back in his. "You might want to call Branwen to come save you with conversation, though!"

"I am _sure_ she is already trying to calm our distressed paladin down," he disagreed. "And perhaps if she is successful she will be busy herself tonight." His voice had lowered at that; perhaps in irritation.

Imoen glanced at the elf's face. "Does that... um... bother you in a way?"

He seemed a little surprised by the question. "Why should it?"

"You two seem close. Not like that! But it bothers Aegy and me who each other sleeps with. It seems to bother you who I sleep with. It seems natural it might bother you a little. You don't seem fond of Ajantis."

Xan considered this. Then he shrugged helplessly. "You have listed a number of situations which are perfect for comparison; As nothing can be done about any of those 'botherings.' But, perhaps a little. It is easier for me when I just ignore these sorts of things. If we are lucky, he will leave the group."

"You dislike him _that_ much? I mean I know he's a little confused and bewildered by having stumbled into a party of heroes with a bunch of crazy people inside, but..."_  
_

"I dislike him that much," Xan agreed. "So much that even Viconia is growing on me by contrast."

* * *

When Imoen returned back to the Juggler with Xan that evening, it was late. Branwen, of all people, was the one waiting for them. She got out of her chair, stomped over to him and glared down at Xan, who looked quite confused or perhaps stunned to find here there.

"Where the devil you been, little man?" she growled at him. "Have you any idea the hour? I've never seen you outside a wine bottle or your bedroom after nine! Do you have any idea how worried I was? Did you even eat dinner? How am I supposed to look out for you if you disappear on me?"

Imoen gaped for a moment and then broke out laughing. "She's all yours, Xan!" the violet girl laughed, pushing the baffled elf forward.

"Oh just wait till I get you!" Branwen accused. "What were you doing? Sowing your wild oats, I'd reckon? And taking _this_ one bar hopping along with you?! Leaving him alone on the tavern floor when he's prone to panic attacks?"

"He insisted, he insisted!" Imoen pleaded her defense. "He was sure you'd be with Ajantis and thought to come back late anyway!"

Branwen scowled "That _boy_ has got too many thoughts in his head to 'be' with anyone at the moment, and most of them silly and wrapped up in knots to boot! Xan. Did you at least _eat_?"

The elf finally found his voice. "I... I did," he told her. "There was sadly no vegetarian option, so I contented myself with picking the ham out of the pea soup. I had two bowls, and Imoen made me share some lemon tarts with her."

Branwen scrutinized him for a moment before harrumphing and deflating a bit. Then she smiled a little. "Well alright, you've impressed me," she told him. "I suppose I'll let it slide. Look, now I'm exhausted and cranky. Shame on you for keeping me up when I were turning undead all day!"

"Of course. My _deepest_ apologies for delaying your slumber, Lady of the Isle," Xan answered with a relieved sigh.

Branwen rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder a pat. "See you soon then, I'm turning in. Glad nothing happened." Then she stifled a big yawn with her hand, and turned and headed up to the second floor.

Imoen winked at Xan, and he pressed his lips together in a not-smile-but-almost and followed in Branwen's wake.

* * *

*The author accepts the irony of a Edwin saying this, as he basically does the same exact thing as Melicamp in BG2 with the same exact sort of item XD


	15. Lessons

Imoen unlocked the peasant suite room slowly and quietly, not certain if Edwin would still be asleep. He wasn't, and by the expression on his face, he was not in the best of moods. He looked up at her from where he was reclined against the headboard of his cot, his spellbook balanced against his knees and one of his newly purchased scrolls on the bed beside him.

"Hey," she greeted him, going up to her bed and starting to remove her armor. She'd buckled it on sloppily for the trip back to the Juggler. "You're up late. Want me to grab you something to eat or drink?"

He scowled at her, and rubbed his face, perhaps indicating he wasn't actually sure what time it was. {Where did you flit off to with the elf, little Monkey?}

{Where do I ever flit off to?} she giggled but then gave him an answer anyway. {First, I was sending a message by... pigeon? to my dad.}

Edwin paused and glanced at her. He tapped lightly on his spellbook in thought. {Pertaining to what?} He asked it as if he found the action strange.

{What kind of question is that? None of your business, he's my da! I can send him my ruminations on the color patterns of the common earthworm if I want. Although given that he's a tavern keeper, I suppose I'd be more likely to inform him about new types of cheese I'd encountered...}

The Thayvian sneered. {Testy, are we? Is it _that_ time of month by any chance?}

{Ha! No. I haven't... He hasn't heard from me since I sneaked out of Candlekeep to follow Aegis, the night Gorion was killed. I mean, he had no way of knowing I was even alive, did he? I should have tried to let him know I was okay sooner.}

{Pah. You are an adult and he has no help to offer you. Why bother worrying about him? You hardly owe a tavern keeper an update each time you do something.}

{Well, _I_ would hate to be _your_ mom, if that's how you feel," she teased, finally getting her brigandine hauberk off and setting it carefully aside. "My little (grunt) baby boy, not only growing up and going out into the world for the very first time, but by disappearing in the dead of night with no word for months-! I'd expect some explanations! I'd be hysteric!}

He rolled his eyes and decided not to banter back, mostly because there was so little in his life that could compare with her dramatics that to even begin arguing with her would no doubt require an extensive history lesson. {Enough. Child, I have a question for you, and I expect it to be answered.}

{Shoot it,} she welcomed, sitting down to unlace her archery bracers.

{When your sister so blithely recruited me to the party, did you enter into something resembling a bet with her that you could ply your wiles to keep me harmless?}

Imoen laughed. {Yes! And that I could get you to talk to me about magic. I called you a vain dragon and pegged your biggest weakness as flattery,} she told him.

Edwin stared at her for a moment. {You admit this openly in front of me, as if I should not be offended?}

She rolled her eyes. {Of course, Edwin, because everyone's out for themselves! Don't you know that? I wanted the Red Dragon to talk to me, so I insidiously employed my long and sordid history of talking to cranky wizards to get him to yield his death grasp on normal conversation. And lo, I was successful! We discussed forbidden topics like wine and various flavors of apple cider, and the benefits of using acid spells over cold! Dastardly of me, I know!}

The Thayvian frowned, as if he wasn't quite certain what to make of her. Imoen lifted her brows, pulling off one of the archery bracers and setting it aside.

"I give. What's eating you? You were just tellin' me today how I was so easy to manipulate because I believed in the magical powers of friendship and rainbows to keep people from betraying each other. Someone just phrase it differently such that you didn't like the sound of it anymore?"

{Do not presume you have control of _anything_, child. Much less me.}

"Hi, I'm Imoen!" she exclaimed, extending her hand. "It's nice to meet you! Say, I've got a question. After just meeting me and now having talked to me for all of six seconds, would you say it sounds like I have a domineering, control-freak personality?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. {Alright. I admit you have made a halfway intelligent point,} he agreed. {You _are_ incredibly guileless.}

{Maybe. Everyone influences everyone else, do they not?} she asked, finishing the lacing on her second bracer. {I am learning magic because of you, you can command undead because of me; neither of us is alone in the sky tweaking everyone else's puppet strings.}

The Red Wizard lifted a brow. {You have many strings; and many people pull them. Your so called 'free will' is often but a pattern others learn to predict in order to use you like a tool.}

{Gods,} Imoen laughed, standing up and pulling her dirty tunic off from over her chemise. {You are so... _bitter!_} she complained. {How do you ever manage to enjoy life?}

He laughed at her naivety. {By taking pleasure in what _I_ control," he answered. {Power is everything; and power is most certainly to be enjoyed in and of itself.}

{Well then you are eventually going to end up _sure_ you hate me,} she grinned, tossing the tunic aside and bending over to unlace her boots. She kicked them off one at a time. {I am _way_ too pink for control to ever factor in.}

{Hnh. We'll see.} He went back to studying.

Imoen smiled. {What are you looking at?} she asked, hopping as she got the last boot off and then coming over curiously to see the scroll he was perusing. She was surprised when he rolled it up suddenly.

{No. Another question first. You have not yet explained what your issue with magical education is. I initially predicted you had sworn off magic because you miscast something, but that seems insufficient to explain your dramatics.}

Imoen recoiled and rolled her eyes. {Edwin, I do not want to talk about this,} she grumbled, turning from him and going to pull on a fresh tunic.

{That is unfortunate, because _I _quite intend on discussing it with you,} he answered snidely.

{Tough,} she retorted, and then sighed. {I'm going to tiptoe out and grab a tea.}

Edwin scowled, closing his spellbook with a snap and pursuing her out the door. {You _will_ tell me. You promised me a conversation in Beregost,} he reminded her. Imoen glared at him as they headed down the staircase and into the warm ale-infused atmosphere of the common space below.{Initially I assumed it had slipped your easily distracted mind, but now it is clear you have deliberately eluded me. A pity for you, but I have _not_ forgotten.}

"Edwin, I don't care for this at all," she hissed at him, going up t the counter to purchase her drink.

{Which is exactly why I am still pushing you for an answer,} he sneered, leaning over her and leering. {Little talkative Monkey, rendered speechless! A mystery I must know the answer to. Come now, waif, shall you leave me to imagine? Did you turn your favorite toy to mush? Kill something? Someone? Light yourself on fire? Tear open a hole to another plane? Endure a lecherous old grope? What on Faerun can happen to a child in this laughably soft country in a giant _Library_? My mind is going to wander farther and worse!}

She grit her teeth. {This is not like bats. This is not something you can just desensitize out of me, and if you _try_ you can consider this mentorship abruptly terminated.}

The Red Wizard grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face him. He was scowling dangerously. {No. It is _not_ that easy to drop the arrangements you make; _Or_ the people you make them with.}

"Watch me," she told him. {It is none of your business-}

{I am your teacher, little _fool_,} he snapped. {It is my business, because _you_ are my business.}

{Oh is that right, eh? Well...If you care so badly about something mucking up your puppet, why do you not just magic the answer out of me and be satisfied, hmm? Sod off!}

To her surprise, his retort wasn't 'Maybe I should!' In fact, the Thayvian released her arm and frowned down at her.

{What? What? What are you looking at me like _that_ for?} she griped, snatching up her tea as it was served.

Edwin stepped back and bridged his hands in front of him, clearly thinking. Then he shook his head subtly. {You are a naive, Sword Coast whelp. You have the emotional maturity of a toddler, and the obedience of a particularly recalcitrant donkey. If you were a Thayvian apprentice, with expectations to be had on your behavior, I most certainly _would_ concoct a fitting means of handling the rebellious insult of your defiance.}

Imoen frowned warily at him, not certain where this was heading.

{Unfortunately, the gods have seen fit to birth you into wilder stock than I would have advised them as sane. Do I approve of your attitude? No. No, I would much prefer a driven Mulan _boy_ who knew his place and his motivation already without me having to provide or explain them. But that is not the cause, and the difference has certainly not escaped _my_ astute attention.}

He tilted his head to the side, watching her with a piercing and level intensity: {I do not truly need your answer on this topic. Nor, one supposes, do I even require myself to secure your obedience. I am confident that I can steer you as it pleases me. No, no. From you, little Monkey, I need something very different from... from what I would think to demand of any Thayvian chld.

{I require your trust. Which, given your cheerfully trusting nature, until recently, I assumed I had. Will you explain how I was mistaken?}

Imoen hesitated, but he concluded he had hit one nerve or another. She stared up at him uncertainly for a moment. Then she looked down at her tea. Without another word, she pushed away from the bar and quietly walked past a bunch of happy drunks and clear out the front door of the inn.

* * *

Edwin found her a few minutes later, seated on the wood railing encircling the inn. The city was dark but for a few lamps leading travelers towards the inn herself, and quiet but for the muffled drunken carousing within. As he approached her side, she looked up at him and then pat the railing beside her. He considered the space before obliging her, taking a seat.

{You have to promise not to be awful,} she told him. He did answer that, eyeing her expectantly. Imoen grimaced, but then just stared at her tea for a bit. {I have never told anyone. Not a soul. Not even Aegis.}

The Red Wizard just nodded in acknowledgement of this.

Finally, Imoen took in a long, slow breath. {I do not remember all of it because I was very young. But I remember the key points. My da says when I was super little, I got hold of one of Gorion's scrolls while I was playing with Aegy. I was... two, or thereabouts. He said I became so enamored with it that Gorion let me keep it. I would not put it down. It was my favorite 'toy.' I crinkled it and gummed on it, and smoothed it out and stared at it for hours in all sorts of light. Then about a week later, while I am eating my peas, apparently I summoned up the spell. It was _Dancing Lights_, and I loved it. I conjured them constantly and played with them and chased them around.}

Edwin lifted a brow, surprised, as she continued: {Well, Ulraunt- that's our Keeper of Tomes and the most important person at Candlekeep- he got word of the development and said it was irresponsible to let a baby perform wild magic. Which I guess is reasonable. But he mandated if I was to live there, it had to be stopped. No one could convince him otherwise, but after a few weeks I apparently stopped making the Dancing Lights anyway, and I never cast anything again after that. So it seemed to be a fluke.}

{That does not sound like the end of the story. Nor are you a wild mage, for that matter,} the Thayvian pointed out.

{... When I hit six years old, it was time for my lessons to start. Both Aegis and I needed basic educations. But instead of letting me be trained by the monks and tutors, Ulraunt decided to tutor me himself. And instead of having a bunch of teachers, I just had him. He schooled me on magic and ethics. But... I could not feel it, do you understand? The Weave. At all. I saw everyone else could use it, but I could not hear it or see it, like it was not there. I was angry with him. I hated the lessons. I started to hate him."

Something about this tale was not adding up. People did not simply cast spells as babies and then end up magically inept for no reason. Edwin tilted his head slightly, curious about where this narrative was heading.

{I told him I would not study it any more. When I refused, he cast a spell on me so I would listen to him.} She grimaced. {But afterwards, when it faded, I remembered being angry with him. I did not understand what was going on and I got frustrated and confused. I started misbehaving, and he would use spells to make me hear loud noises or conjure illusions or such to make me behave. I tried to tell my dad one day that I hated my lessons, but my da just talked to me really sternly, like I had never heard him talk before, and told me he would send me away if I did not pay attention in my studies. That shut me up good for quite awhile, it did.}

Edwin did not laugh. He might have, or at least smirked in amusement at the throttled antics of a disobedient youngster; but no. This tale was starting to reek of something dark. Her clues were summoning up a ghost of suspicion as to what that 'something' might be.

{Apparently I stopped eating. My da was concerned. And then suddenly I could not _keep_ myself from eating meals or else I started _hurting_ inside my body and head. That was really upsetting. I started getting miserable. I would cry while eating, and when I studied I would forget everything I read as I read it. So he made me study longer and longer and longer until I finally gave in and learned it. I got very quiet and stopped playing. I did not want to eat but I had to; so I started throwing up the food. I got thin, but then something else changed and I could not make myself sick anymore. I refuse to go to lessons and hid, and no matter how good my hiding spot was, a tutor would come get me from where I was hiding. I wanted to say something, but I could not.}

Imoen wasn't looking at him to see, but the Red Wizard's brows were drawn tightly together in a knot.

{One day about a year later when I was hiding in a tree, Gorion came to find me instead. He coaxed me down with chocolate and then asked if he could cast a spell on me. I told him he could. I remember the expression on his face. He became so incredibly angry. I thought I had never seen him so angry, not at me, not at Aegis, not once in all my life. He turned red, even. I was scared, but he took me by the hand and brought me to the temple and talked to the priests there. They started running around, drawing runes and gathering supplies, and Gorion sat me down in his lap and told me a story. A very specific story. And that is when I figured out what had happened.

{Ulraunt had been using magic on me. When I was two, he cursed me to block me from the Weave, which is the real reason I stopped casting. He did not remove it, intentionally, even when I started studying. And when it came time for me to study, he began by using _Charm_ spells to compel my behavior. When that stopped working so well, and I grew numb to illusions, he... The time I thought my da was telling me he would abandon me? That was an illusion. Ulraunt made an illusion of my dad to scold me with so I wouldn't misbehave or tell anyone else that I hated my lessons. Later when I started getting very sad, he used divination to determine when I was misbehaving, and then he would geas me to behave. He geased me to eat, to study, to not talk about how unhappy I was, to not throw up. I was so filled with magic that they were fetching Tethtoril, a high priest of Mystra, to disperse it.

{Ulraunt was upset I was late to my lessons I guess, and he came to the temple. He had this gleam in his eyes and he launched into an argument with Gorion almost immediately. The priests took me to another room, but I remember Ulraunt shouting. He said a lot of things... I do not remember all the exact words, just the feelings they put in me. He mentioned Aegis, and I also remember he said that I did not deserve to use magic if I would not use it properly. And it was better if now I never would. I hated him right then, I did. _Hated_ him.

{Gorion only answered in a low voice and I could not make out the words. But whatever he said, Ulraunt got more and more hysterical and angry until finally he left.}

{And it all ended that day. Tethtoril purged all the magic. My lessons stopped entirely. No one talked to me about magic ever again. But I could feel the Weave again. I do not think I would have ever picked up a book, except it was just... there. The magic was there, and making me itchy. The first thing I stole was a scroll Gorion left around. Then another. And another. There were a lot of good people at Candlekeep. Gorion always made sure there were new things for me to borrow from him. Parda would figure out when I was stuck and leave anonymous notes for me to find. Firebead knew if he asked me to fetch anything at all, I would take it for a bit and read it. Normal lessons started again with normal tutors, but no one kept me longer than I wanted to stay.

{I never had to talk to Ulraunt again, unless he was yelling at Aegis. It was like it never happened. I sort of pretended it had not. I did not even hate him the same way because it was like it had been a dream.

{That is all. That is all there is to tell.}

Edwin was silent, watching her.

Imoen didn't look at him. She gazed at the ground, and although she had not shared any tears, she still rubbed at her face to remove the heated, prickly, emotional sensation from her skin. {Well?} he prompted after a moment. {Satisfied?}

The Red Wizard remained quiet. After a moment, he stood and looked to the inn door.

{Aren't you going to stay anything? Something sarcastic, maybe?}

Edwin looked back down at her bowed head. A moment passed. Then she felt sharp-nailed fingers carefully tucking some of her bangs back behind one ear. The clawed fingertips settled briefly against the crown of her head and then retracted. Without a word, he headed inside to give her some time alone with her thoughts; and to have some time to his.

* * *

"Ahem."

Xan blinked rapidy awake. At first he was cognizant of the pillow; then of the woman coiled up around him with one of her arms flung out over him; and lastly of the fact that someone _else_ was in the room.

He blinked slowly, lifting his gaze inch by inch until he was looking up at Viconia's dark face.

"And here I was so _convinced_ you were not lovers..." the dark elf drawled, amused._  
_

"Do either of us look undressed?" Xan asked patiently without lifting his head.

Viconia frowned. Branwen had dressed down to chemise and trousers, but the elf had not changed out of his robes. The Norheimer had buried her face into Xan's neck and hair and wrapped both arms and around the elf; but there wasn't so much as an odor of musk in the room to suggest that something interesting had occurred. "No," Viconia admitted.

"There you have it, then. Is there a reason you are in our room?"

"Some kind of package came for Imoen this morning. They are asking for your expertise. The door was unlocked."

Xan frowned, propping himself up slightly. Branwen shifted a little in her sleep, squeezing him. He glanced back at her and quickly wove a mild sleep enchantment before pushing aside her arms and sitting up. "My expertise? What do you mean?" he asked her, rubbing sleep from his face.

"It appears to be an enchanted item. I think they want to identify it," Viconia answered. "You truly sleep that close to a woman and then do not service her properly? Bold of a male." The two had pushed their cots together in the night to share a sleeping surface.

Xan sighed. His proximity to Branwen was clearly as popular a topic among party members as was Imoen's proximity to Edwin. Perhaps it would be best to simply accept this and grow desensitized to the questions and speculations. "Thank you for your honest opinion, Viconia. Since I am up, give me a moment to disguise you."

Viconia obliged him and was quiet as the elf stood up and wove his illusion; it was half the reason she'd volunteered to come get him. Xan took a good look at his handiwork when he was done and then nodded. Viconia looked back at Branwen and then at Xan. She smiled. "You do realize that eventually she is going to expect this hard work to pay off."

"Hard work?" he raised a brow.

"In being patient with you. What? Don't be stupid, darthiir. She is intrigued by you; anyone can tell that. You are exotic. She has never before encountered a man like you." Xan frowned. "And for now she is happy to take her time and play your game. But eventually, she is going to expect you to trust her, let down your guard... and _yield_... She is going to expect that holding off will be... rewarded."

"Viconia," Xan warned, because this was an unacceptable line of conversation and she had been _warned_.

"All people have_ needs_, darthiir," she purred, advancing on him. "All people want things, and Branwen is no different. Trust me; we are fast becoming friends, she and I. Branwen is a simple, passionate, and powerful individual, Xan. Do you truly think for one moment she would humor you like this if she did not expect something in turn?" She pouted teasingly and then tilted her head to the side. Her voice was throaty and sensual, and it lent a raw and pleasurable edge to everything she said. "No, you know better. You know this sort of arrangement isn't something that _lasts_. And you are braced for it as if in fear! You should _reconsider_ your stance, pretty wizard..."

He pressed his lips together tightly, staring into her proud and merciless face.

"I am... _sure_... you have needs of your own, no matter how you have suffered," the drow continued, smiling haughtily and lifting a hand to gently touch the fabric of his robes. He backed off to the side, away from her touch. Viconia chuckled. "You should _embrace_ that. Enjoy the stillness now, and when she has need of returns... focus on your own needs again and _submit_... Lest she grow bored and frustrated with you. For surely you will find no more patient a partner... You wouldn't want to lose her, now would you?"

"You need to stop," he warned her.

Viconia grinned. "Even the lowliest drow male, whipped and taunted, dreams of his matron and _aches_. And I have broken more than enough pleasure slaves to know that _cruelty_ does not kill lust... You _want _to be touched, and you should admit it. Your fears are only in your own head; something _you_ are doing _to _yourself... And you will be much happier when that painful, self-inflicted... _tension_... is released..."

Xan took in a long, slow breath. "Hold that thought, as interesting as it is. I need to make modification to this disguise. I neglected the color of your eyebrows." Viconia scowled. He started chanting again.

* * *

A number of the party members were gathered around a table in breakfast. Imoen had been studying magic when her parcel arrived, and a few scrolls now lay forgotten at the edge of the table as she examined the package's contents.

Aegis didn't find the parcel strange; Rather, she found the oddest thing about any of this was waking up in the morning and tromping downstairs to find that Imoen was already awake. Imoen! The Queen of Sleep! But Imoen had been awake with a blanket round her for extra warmth, asking questions about a scroll to Edwin. The latter had been glancing over from his spellbook to assist; they had obviously been studying together, one over dark coffee and the other over milky, weak coffee.

And Aegis most certainly found that all very strange.

The ranger girl had been rooming with Viconia, and though she had done her best not to wake the other woman, the drow had come downstairs only a few minutes later with her cloak on and her hood low. Some food kept her from commenting.

Dynaheir and Minsc had woken up soon after, and each found the studious duo odd in their own way. The former bit her tongue at all the magical education, successfully refraining from voicing her opinions or strategies. Ajantis had joined them soon afterward. He did not sit with them at their table, but his presence suggested he affiliated himself with them nonetheless.

Then the parcel had arrived.

Edwin looked up when Viconia returned alone, back in her human disguise. The drow looked irritable, but something about her facial expression was not quite right. She passed them up, walked up to the bartender, and asked for an entire bottle of honey. She paid with coin, took the bottle, and promptly began squirting it over her own head.

The party watched, jaws dropping as she worked the honey into every inch of her hair. Then she turned and stopped one of the the maids as she carried out an indoor latrine bucket. She paid the woman three gold coins 'for the mess,' picked up the bucket, and overturned it on her own head.

The slime colored her black and brown and hit the floor with a grotesque splatter. The party continued to gape. The tavern wench stumbled back in alarm. Wiping shit out of her eyes, Viconia looked around and then calmly walked up to the party.

Edwin started laughing.

"What in the hells?" Imoen asked. Ajantis stared up from where he was fervently shining his shield at a nearby table, mouth agape as was everyone else's.

"She's charmed!" Edwin cackled. Then his eyes widened as Viconia came straight up to him, grabbed his shoulders, and straddled him; sitting down in his lap. He flailed and gagged in horror at the smell and filth. Imoen slapped a hand over her own mouth.

"My apologies," Viconia said, grabbing one of the mage's hands and putting it on her breasts. Edwin tried to resist too late; and ended up with an arm covered in slime. "But she was advising me on sexual matters. Please do call me down once you've successfully restrained her." Then her eyes rolled and she convulsed widely as Xan apparently released his enchantment.

Viconia came back to herself, blinking dazedly around herself. Edwin hugged his arms to himself, staring at the feces-blackened cleric in horror. The entire party was awkwardly quiet for a moment.

"I will break down the door," Viconia told Edwin calmly.

"Fireballs," he agreed. "Four."

Aegis whistled loudly enough to get the attention of the entire party. "DOGPILE!" she demanded, and as one the group surged forward, grabbing for the arms and fingers and maces and daggers of two seriously offended shrieking angry people. There was a FOR SHAR followed by intense divine strength and constitution, and then Aegis and Minsc had wrestled Viconia to the ground and Imoen and Dynaheir were stymieing Edwin. Ajantis came up and looked perplexed down at all of them. He tilted his head to the side.

Branwen, whom Xan had woken up for security reasons, reached the ground floor half a minute later and slapped a hand over her face. The entire party was brawling in a giant puddle of feces. Half of them were covered in the stuff. Edwin stuffed a handful in Dynaheir's face to try and get her off of his good arm. She grabbed up a handful and did the same straight back to him, getting it in in his hair and sending some sliding down the back of his robes. Imoen had cast some kind of magic again, because she was mid-brawl trying to restrain Edwin, but she appeared to be completely poop-proof.

Viconia was trying to clamber forward despite having a Minsc on her back and an Aegis on her legs; they were holding on through her _Divine Power_. Aegis had a black eye, and Minsc was bleeding. Ajantis was still watching in bafflement. Tavern patrons were scattering left and right, holding their noses and grimacing in disgust.

"And that," said the bartender to his serving wench, "is why you never let a tavern patron purchase a bucket of latrine waste. Especially an adventurer."

Branwen sighed, dug out some coins for the bartender to help with the mess. She glanced to the side as a groggy Kagain joined her on the stairs and gave the whole scene a perplexed look. Then she took a big breath and leaped in with a, "TEMPUS!" The dwarf watched her go and then shrugged and followed.


	16. Proper Grooming

The FFFFs (Fabulous Foster Father Flashbacks) are going to return next chapter :)

* * *

The thief knocked. {Can I come in?}

{What? No!}

{I got you fresh clothes.}

Snarl. {Fine. Just _fine.}_

Imoen grinned and pushed into the room. {I guess magic can't do everything,} she laughed, closing the door behind her and hopping up to the wooden tub. Edwin had a full bottle of Beregost's finest red dangling from his fingertips. Aegis had sent him off with it; and he had taken it for the bribe it was.

{Just set them-!} Edwin twisted about and glared indignantly back up at her. The water was cloudy with lavender, bath salts, and soap such that naught could be seen at least, so she didn't have to cleverly avert her gaze. {_Excuse_ me, Lady Annoyance Incarnate. Do you _mind_?} he demanded irritably, placing the bottle on the ground. {Do _I_ barge and stare at you while you are trying to relax? (No, no I most certainly do not, and half the party would take doing so as an excuse to bisect me!)}

Imoen laughed, peering at him curiously. She was more interested in seeing how his shoulder was mending than anything else, but what she said was: {And here the last time I saw the tattoos you were still freaking out about leeches. I never did get to ask you about them!} Edwin scowled. He did have quite an aesthetic veil of tattoos. They were not like a sailor's sleeves; they were composed of discrete black ribbons, with plenty of yellow-tinged skin bare between the markings. Edwin's natural skin color was apparently more olive than her own; The pinkish tint of his healing wound stood out sharply in a wide swath on his right shoulder.

When he realized she was most definitely staring, the Thayvian glowered at her; his head tilted slightly back and to the side, and his eyes evidencing sheer displeasure. Imoen grinned. If he thought a nasty stare would send her skittering, he had another thing coming!

The tattoos traced in thin, sharp sigils over his skin, forming abstract shapes that seemed dragon or demon-like in appearance. From where she was standing, she could only really see the crisp black marks against his neck and laced around his arms where they rested on the tub. A thick, jagged line of healed skin broke most of the tattoos across his right shoulder and shoulder blade, but one set of sigils in particular seemed unaffected by the damage; and Imoen wondered if Edwin had repaired the tattoo or if some enchantment in the ink had caused it to remain through the healing process.

{Dynaheir said something about Thayvians knowing tattoo magic?} she prompted after a second, dragging up a chair and settling down the fresh clothing. Imoen had looked all over town and paid through he nose for red. It wasn't the right shade, but it would do.

Edwin sighed at the realization she wasn't going to leave him alone no matter how hard he glared. He leaned back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes, hoping the heat could purge the stink. {Yes, Monkey. How did you not end up covered in shit like everyone else, by the way?}

{I got off one of your protection from liquids cantrips before diving in. It all just sloughed off of my clothing, and you didn't go and stick a handful in my face,} she grinned toothily.

{I shall rectify that next time. (Perhaps I should just summon a dretch on her now... No, no, not worth the spell components- Augh.) Do you mind? I would_ very_ much like you to leave now!}

{Tattooooos,} she prompted.

He opened an eye irritably. {It is Mulan custom to ink the skin,} he answered. {And has been for eons- are you _sniffing_ me?}

{You still smell _awful_,} Imoen complained. {You cannot sleep in here tonight smelling like that.}

He tilted his head back and glared over at her. {Monkey, you are _incredibly_ lucky I am wet and would have trouble summoning fire,} he hissed. {I am in no mood to endure you. Get _out_.}

She laughed, reaching into a pocket and drawing out a bottle of hair soap. {Makes you wonder what sort of horrid magical demon poopy was in that latrine, doesn't it? Here, this should help.} She offered it to him. He waved her irritably away with a hand.

{I do not need your form of help, and you are _sorely_ testing the last frayed edges of my patience. If you do not want to risk me turning you into a chicken, get out.}

{Aw come on, just accept my help!} she laughed. {I know a thing or two about getting icky things in your hai-}

{If you want to help me, fetch me a razor,} he growled, {(I wonder if I can barricade the door against her reentry...)}

Imoen blinked. {A razor? For what?}

{Stop _asking_ stupid questions!} He snarled, lifting his hands in the air in general, hooked anger. {Can you not tell I am annoyed!? A razor: For shaving my head, what else!? That _should_ get the smell out! No- no- just _leave_! (I swear. I am going to kill her. She needs to _go_!)}

Imoen eyed the bad tempered man in horror as he fished out a bar of soap and a rough cloth and again tried to scrub the stench away. _Shave his...? Egads._ Imoen shifted the chair so it sat behind him, uncapped the shampoo bottle, and upended it over her palm. She poured herself a big gelatinous handful, thinking about how she hadn't handled such nice shampoo since Candlkeep, and then sat down in the chair, leaned over, and reached out. She grabbed his head between her palms and quickly smeared the goop in. He tensed and sneered, and the water sloshed as he prepared to twist about and take a swing at her.

Then he paused, still grasping the edge of the tub tightly, his teeth grit. She quickly lathered, massaging down to the roots of the hair with all of her fingers. His posture loosened. He eased back down against the wood. After a long moment, when she did not stop, he tilted his head back and looked up at her. The lecherous or entitled expression which should have been expected was nowhere to be found. His brows were furrowed, and he clearly had no idea what to make of her.

{I... do not remember... _doing_ anything to deserve this,} he confessed, his accent thick as he rolled the 'r's of 'remember' and 'deserve' quite heavily.

Imoen shrugged a little. {Yeah ya did. Sometimes nothing is something,} she told him quietly as she took her time with his hair. She lathered down at the back of the skull, and carefully around both ears and up against the temples. His eyes closed almost entirely and, for a very short time, he was hushed.

* * *

Branwen and Dynaheir were still bathing Viconia. The honey had formed such a mess of her hair that it took both women, several cantrips, and a bottle of potent anti-stick oil from Feldepost's Inn to finally start peeling the stuff out.

"Kagain, you joined the fight on the wrong side," Aegis laughed. The Dwarf winked and shrugged innocently from where he was standing. Remarkably, he had bathed just as successfully as the rest of them. And who said dwarves were dirty?

"Eh, just looked like any brawl to me," he confessed. "Funny all that good fightin' was caused by pansy elves..."

Imoen paused, gaping, at the bottom of the stairs. Edwin looked similarly perplexed. "Um," the thief asked. "What am I looking at?"

Aegis shrugged, equally baffled. "You are looking at a dwarf plaiting and oiling my hair so it doesn't catch in my armor." And that appeared to be _exactly_ what Imoen was looking at. Kagain had drawn up a bar stool while Aegis was sitting so that he could get to the crown of her head easily. He was being very careful that not a strand was out of place.

"Ya was going ats it with a belt knife," Kagain was clearly offended. "Hair's meant to be taken care of, whether it's a beard or otherwise! If ya was a dwarf woman with hair like this and then yas just took to it with a _belt knife_ of all things-!" he broke off muttering in dwarvish about chin whiskers and curls and the color yellow. He seemed to be having quite a hay day with the large plait he was weaving. Not a hair was out of place.

A moment passed in awkward, confused silence.

"So... today we have learned that dwarves are experts on all things... hairy," Imoen decided.

"That's a good way of looking at it," Aegis agreed, and Edwin nodded in relief that someone had found a way to phrase this situation such that it followed logically from anything and everything the party knew to be true of dwarves. Aegis put another mental tally mark under her 'Times Imoen has successfully diffused party Omega Wolf' counter. Edwin looked comparatively calm.

Edwin and Imoen had just settled down and started to eat their lunch when the source of all these shenanigans finally came down to join them. Edwin glared daggers at Xan. The Red Wizard, while freshly bathed and shampooed, had not been able to get the filth out of his robes entirely with his own spells. The tavern women had promised him they knew just the trick and were currently laundering the garment. However, this had left the Red Wizard with a very temporary problem: he did not own a spare robe. Normally he didn't need one, and it kept his load light. Enter Lady Annoyance Incarnate. The Red Wizard hadn't been reduced to wearing cotton for a very long time, and shifted irritably in the tunic and trousers Imoen had provided for him.

"Well," the elf sighed, "I must apologize for all of the gross inconveniences I've caused everyone. That escalated very quickly..."

"What happened!?" Imoen laughed, getting up from her chair to wave him over and sit him down. "Viconia is never going to forgive you! Did you at least talk to her?"

"She was being uncouth. And yes, I've spoken to her; When I finally activated the Tongues spell, I found myself bombarded by the most colorful vernacular about anal retention and surface elves," Xan told her. "Unfortunately I am not fluent in Drow, so I missed the dawn of the rant. She certainly did not forgive me, but she may have obtained some satisfaction from the onslaught nevertheless," Xan decided.

Edwin glared daggers at the elf. "You _sat_ her on me," he snapped. "What in the seven hells is wrong with you? (Did I do anything to deserve that? Did I confront the elf in his bedroom and talk to him about the She-Tempus? No, no I did- Nn.)" Imoen's pokes and pinches were becoming less painful at least.

"Ah... Well, what is wrong with that?" Xan mused. "I thought you would have _liked_ having Viconia in your lap. Anyway, I was trying to decide between you and Ajantis. Then I realized you were ironically less likely to kill her."

The paladin turned scarlet. "What?" he asked, horrified.

"She was covered in _fecal matter_!" Edwin complained loudly, leaning angrily over the table. "Do you think I am going to sit here and ignore this- this _insult_ or somehow take it in good humor!? No, enchanter, I do _not_ have that patience! The next time you are going to mentally dominate a woman and sit her in my lap, she best be _nude_! And _not_ covered in two day's worth of liquid waste! If you _ever_-!"

"We'll find some way to make it up to you Edwin," Aegis promised the seething wizard. "And not by charming women to sit naked in your lap, either. First pick of loot in Ulcaster, maybe? Let Xan off the hook. And _you_," she said, turning to the elf. "That was a _phenomenal_ prank. All of the honors are yours. But never, ever, ever do it again. I think Viconia got the point, and including Edwin was unnecessary and dangerous."

Edwin sneered but leaned back in his chair. He had taken the incident better than had been expected, although they were clearly going to have to take great efforts to appease the spoiled man. 'Dangerous' was a good start; He wore it like a complement.

Xan nodded. "I understand and... for what little it may be worth, Red Wizard, I _do _apologize.

Edwin jerked his head irritably but said nothing.

"If I may enquire... what is this 'item' I was called on to identify in the first place?"

"Well! I'm glad you asked!" Imoen announced. She scooted out her chair, knelt down under the table, and then pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. She settled the package on the table and opened it, revealing a treasure trove of smaller packages and one long one. "This arrived for me this morning," she explained excitedly. "It came from Candlekeep! The smaller packages are food, but this..." She unwrapped the long package, revealing an incredibly detailed ebony-colored baton with dull gold insets spiraling up and down its length. The designs cut into the wood were thick and deep but abstract and without clear design. They almost seemed like waves or crags. The exact color of the item was mottled, with tints of purple and blue.

Xan perked up in surprise, reaching out to take the baton from her in both hands as she offered it. "Did your father send a letter with this?" he asked.

"He did. The letter is not for your eyes, though! But he wrote a bit about its name. He said it was called 'Blacksun' before the Time of Troubles when a black sun became a symbol of Cyric. He said its formal name is 'The Sun Awakened to Emptiness' but he didn't right nothing about where it came from. He just said to have it properly identified and that it was meant for me to have- um... Xan? That is a strange expression on your face."

Xan's eyes were wide with surprise. "Blacksun?" he asked. "Imoen, you addressed your letter home to 'Winthrop of Candlekeep Tavern.' Is Winthrop a surname?"

"What? Um. Yeah, my dad's full name is Griswold Winthrop," she answered. "Everyone just called him Winthrop though, even me. When I'm not making fun of him, ahem. I asked him about the surname once, and he said some of his folk had land... in... you are still staring..."

Xan was quiet for a moment as he digested this. Then he nodded. "I see. You have no idea, do you?" he asked.

"No idea about what?" Imoen asked, confused by how mysterious Xan was being.

"Griswold Winthrop is the name of a famous vampire slayer who retired about twenty years ago," Xan told her. "The Blacksun was his signature weapon. Although for luck's sake, one presumes the weapon should now be renamed..."

Imoen sat back in her seat, her jaw dropping. Silence reigned for a moment, before she and Aegis simultaneously uttered: "You've got to be shitting me."

Imoen looked at her sister and then leaned forward over the table. "My dad? _My dad_!? My dad was a vampire hunter? No _way_. No _way. _First of all, that is clearly not a weapon; it's a baton! Second, my dad is a fat tavern keeper who knows everything there is to know in the world about cheese, cream sauce, and the best sources for sweet tomatoes! He is not a vampire hunter!"

"H-he hasn't always been fat," Aegis said in a strangled voice. "He used to teach us footwork when we were younger. I always wondered why'd come out to watch us and gave us and the guards all these pointers... and why the guards would have us follow him. The bow, too; now that I think about it, we started on the bow with him, not with Hull..."

"And this is not exactly a baton," Xan interjected, settling the item down on the table. "It is a bowstaff. Permit me to begin a proper _Identification_, and I shall determine the trigger phrase for showcasing its abilities."

Imoen and Aegis looked at one another in confusion and quickly began to trade memories, trying to figure out if this made any sense at all. They had always assumed that Gorion and Winthrop had known each other before coming to Candlekeep; and if Gorion knew so many big important people like Elminster then it stood to reason that Winthrop might once have been an adventurer too. It took Xan a few minutes to analyze the weapon, but when he had finished he placed a hand upon it and called out: "_Yuvon yiir yolus miin." _

The Blacksun twisted, extended, and writhed. Within a second, the weapon had transformed into a full-sized quarterstaff. A pale yellow shard of wood protruded from the top like a spear-point or a wooden, tent stake.

Xan nodded to himself. "This weapon identifies as 'The Sun Awakened to Emptiness.' As I stated previously, it is a bowstaff, which means it can transform into to any wooden weapon that the owner requires. It is heavily enchanted for combat. Specifically, the tip will react to undead and evil outsiders by producing holy light. And it is yours." He picked up the quarterstaff, offering it across the table.

Imoen took it slowly, a stunned expression on her face. "_Yuvon_..." she murmured and then looked hesitantly to Edwin.

"_Yuvon. Yiir. Yolus. Miin,_" he supplied slowly with a glance at Xan to ensure he'd caught the trigger words. The elf nodded.

_"Yuvon yiir yolus miin," _Imoen echoed perfectly. The weapon quivered and bent into the shape of a shortbow. The pale yellow tip retracted into the structure and then manifested fresh as a similarly colored bowstring, one which felt as sharp and unbreakable as as steel. Imoen stared at the weapon for a moment, testing its tension and running her fingers over the strange grooves and markings that twisted down its length. When there was little enough left to inspect, she lifted her head to look around at the group.

"I..." she hesitated. "Dear Oghma. My da was a vampire hunter," she muttered in a strangled voice. "What is with all these old people not _telling_ us anything? I... I... I-I need to go get my archery bracers right now. Excuse me."

When she was gone, Aegis turned back to the group. "Well, I think that's an omen. We definitely need to make our way to Ulcaster."

"There is another task we might attend to," Ajantis broached the conversation meekly, as if in pain. The rest of the party was honestly surprised to find he was still with them, and using the word 'we'."

"What's up?" Aegis asked, as if she were not surprised at all.

"There... There has been some trouble with a wizard named Mutamin taming Basilisks to the east, north of Gullykin," Ajantis explained slowly. "The Song of the Morning Temple has told me that the area is littered with petrified individuals, like an outdoor garden of marble."

"So he wants us to be killing this wizard, then," Kagain remarked. "Any _money_ in it?"

"Kelddath doesn't play the 'for the good of the realms' card," Aegis mentioned. "The bounty on Bassilus came in at five thousand gold. It's the most we've made on _anything_ to date. Um, but when did _you_ go see him?"

"Yesterday evening. I mentioned that we are trying to equip ourselves," Ajantis promised them, "and told him about the group. High Priest Ormlyr told me he would be willing to lend us a Rod of Stone to Flesh, and that he would offer two hundred gold per head for individuals we were able to successfully return from the garden."

"Sound like easy money," Kagain told her. "Only thing is, Basilisks ain't cuddly. One wrong look and paf! Ya decorating tha garden yaself. Could take out the whole party like that, ya know."

"I wish someone had mentioned this... opportunity at High Hedge," Edwin growled, rubbing his face. "He had Protection from Petrification scrolls. Useless unless you've a task exactly like this. Without proper protection, the dwarf is right, we are all..."

"Doomed."

Edwin was satisfied that Xan could perform at least _one_ entertaining function, even if he was a miserable and useless failure at just about everything else. Aegis dryly considered that there might be more than one reason Edwin and Imoen were frequently grouped together.

Xan considered. "I think... _Dynaheir_ may have purchased one of those protection scrolls. _Mirror Eyes_ is relatively inexpensive, and practicing with local scrolls helps with her spellcrafting. I'll ask her. We will have to see if she can scribe copies for us; otherwise, Kelddath might have extra scrolls of Stone to Flesh, or potions of _Mirror Eyes. _So at least failure is not _entirely _inevitable_."_

"Anything transcribed by that witch in that barbaric perversion of what she calls Draconic is going to take us a day or so just to figure out ourselves. She will simply have to cast it on whom she wills. My prescription would be the two rangers, they... do tend to run in shrieking like banshees at the front of the party... and most likely they will absorb the bulk of the monsters' gazes. Give the rod to Aegis, and we _should_ all be fine..."

"Mutamin's garden it is, then," Aegis noted. "Though Minsc and I could probably make the trip to High Hedge in a fraction of the time if you two really need those scrolls. We'd have to leave _right_ after picking up my armor for the smithy if we were to get back in time for sleep, though."

"Might be worth it," Edwin drawled. "I would prefer knowing I could cast it on myself, for instance. (Would give me plenty of time to murder the encha... am I muttering?)"

"No murdering Xan while I'm gone," Aegis told him. "What do you want? I hear the Royal Suite just opened."

"(I was.) Tempting, but no. Your bar tab is going to going to accumulate a lot of my wine, however."

* * *

Aegis, Minsc, Branwen, Kagain, Ajantis, and Xan went to pick up the full plate. A complete set of plate mail, Ajantis explained tentatively while they walked, was a pretty demanding piece of equipment. It could not be easily donned without the help of a second party. If it hadn't been enchanted to resist rust, it would have needed constant tending to. And on hot summer months, it could turn into a veritable oven.

On the other hand, full plate was one of the most balanced forms of armor. Balanced using a harness of straps that seated a person's weight on their hips, an arrangement which made it feel extensively lighter than chain or splint; while putting less unnecessary weight on the arms and improving flexibility at the joints. Its weak points were few and far between, but the armpit joint at the groin did have less protection.

Kagain started laughing as he listened to the lecture. Ajantis glanced at the dwarf with a frown. The dwarf smirked. "Oh for the love of money... You was definitely a knight's squire," he chuckled. "An' not seen a day of _real_ war or even smithin' in your life."

Ajantis grimaced. "Do you have something to add?" he asked with forced politeness.

"Yeah. What to know about _fightin'_ in it, ya chump. Are you some kind of moron?"

Aegis put a hand on the paladin's shoulder to help him take this with grace.

"Look lass, the armor can be dented, punctured, or split; but it ain't gonna be cut, ya see? Swords are useless. Someone comes at ya with a scimitar, ya just walk straight into it and lop their heads off," he told her. "The plates are sculpted sloped, with a crest to try and deflect anything with the right force behind it to do damage, like a spear thrust or an axe. Ya gotta be thinking about that with yas footwork and where ya put ya limbs. A dedicated dwarf could take ya legs clear off with a full two-hander war axe in the horizontal, but a vertical swipe down the side of the crest is going to go wide without a problem. Ya can use that to hit a spear clear o' yaself with ya bracer, for instance."

"What about arrows?" she asked

"Broadheads and anything barbed, even crossbow fare, are gonna bounce right off of it or skirt around the sides, see? Ya going to be on the look out for people prepared with narrow bodkin tips or magic. Best side of that story is most everything that can get inta the armor, can be pulled clear without tearing things. No, what yas gotta worry about most are weapons that has got some bludgeoning force with a spiked tip. Morning stars and hammers. The force o' the hit will start banging up the armor good, and ya ribs real nice, and then a broadside hit on the flank with them spikes'll punch right into ya lung. Halberds'll keep ya on ya toes as well, but not the one-hander axes ya like to carry.

"Ha. Worst thing ya gonna face in that armor most days is the heat. If yas clever, ya'll ask the clerics or wizards ta keep ya prepped with spells ta keep ya a reasonable temperature. After that it'll be like wearing a featherweight to one like yaself, right. And ya won't find better armor. Another thing. Thunderhammer plate's famous for how it divides the upper breastplate from the metal protecting the waist. Doesn't lose much deflection power and gives more flexibility for bendin' and twistin'. Still ya ought ta know about it. Yas tall for certain, and that plate'll weather a chest hit better than a hit at the belly."

"I feel like I should be taking notes," the paladin muttered, and Kagain muttered something about idiots and atruism.

Aegis gave Ajantis a pat on the shoulder. "You and me both. We clearly have an expert on hand."

"I'm a _dwarf_," Kagain answered indignantly. "When I was three, I was already twice the expert of most human smiths in the realms, I tells yas. And more knowledgeable than this walking bucket o' tin'll ever be," he tossed the last at Ajantis, who tried not to rise to the insult. "If ya have questions about arms or armor, ya come to me lass, ya hear?Or economics, gems, or gold for that matter, hoi."

"I'll keep in mind my good dwarf," she told him as they entered the smithy. "I've got a lot to learn."

"Then yas might want ta heed this advice too, ya might. Them corridors down in Ulcaster, thems reputed to be tight and narrow, with many ups and downs, overhangs and crags. An ambush down there, now that won't leave much room ta maneuver, ya see? Especially if its at the wrong end, or on mismatched ground, eh? Might be useful, investing in a few long-ranged solutions. Can ya use a bow? Crossbow?"

"My skill with a bow is best reserved for drunken displays of stupidity," Aegis answered sadly.

"Well I've seen ye throw your axe at tree stumps when you're bored," Branwen noted. "Can you do that farther, do you think?"

"Throw a... I'm not going to throw away _that_!" Aegis protested. "What if I _lost_ it? It's a memento now!"

"Nae, but I think the smithy might sell tomahawks," Branwen answered. "Throwing axes, ye call them. A set of five or ten might could get you through any situation, and they are light enough. I've been thinking of getting a bundle of javelins for the same reason."

"You can throw javelins?" Xan asked, surprised. "Accurately?" Branwen nodded. Aegis was thinking about just how many axes she could possibly cram onto her person, with valid excuses for all of them.

The Norheimer explained: "Aye, javelins, and metal shot, and logs, and large rocks and everything else we crazy islander folk like to throw about whilst drinking and carousing," she laughed. "Not as well as _some_, mind ye, but good enough not to hit anyone on accident that's for sure. What are your options, wee man? Bow?"

Xan made a face. "Not in _decades_, no, it was never my interest. I _suppose_ if I had to take up any instrument of ranged combat, I would have to go with the bow as it is the only weapon with which I am acquainted. But I would be likely to shoot someone with it sooner rather than later. In general I would prefer to rely on my Moonblade and my magic." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I might consider it though, as the dwarf- for all that he is incredibly unpleasant- does at least raise a valid point..."

Kagain grunted, patting a crossbow at his side for emphasis. "What about the squire boy, eh?"

"I can... make use of a longbow, if needed," Ajantis answered.

"Oh _joy_," Xan muttered to himself. "I retract my consideration of the weapon lest I find myself enduring _pointers_." Branwen nudged him and rolled her eyes.

"I shall try these throwing axes," Aegis told them. "But they are a long-term investment, then. I sincerely doubt I'm going to be making much use of them in Ulcaster. I will just have to rely on getting to the front of any problem."

"Fair enough!" Kagain agreed. "Tight quarters means more room for friendly fire, and that'll turn a party sour fast. Let's get some and see what yas got in terms of accuracy at the archery range after the basilisks, yeah?"

* * *

After I wrote Kagain's parts, I knew the traditional dwarvish accent I'd used didn't work. I had to go listen to Kagain's voice for a bit to get the right accent in mind XD. He's got a real godfather/gangster accent going on, hehe. "So I says to the guy, you know what I says to him? I says I'm feeling mighty... disappointed, ya know?" That type XD. But I don't really _like_ that accent myself so I'm acclimating!

Slings are actually really difficult weapons to learn to use well, and you need to practice/train with them for certain. It isn't a weapon like a crossbow where you could more or less get the point of how they function and shoot one once in a blue moon and not invest anything more in it. A sling takes... well, dedication to even use _once_ in any meaningful way. So I always thought it was kinda strange that clerics/druids/mages/what-have-you could all use slings.

The idea of Edwin mastering the use of the common leather sling baffled me. Maybe the Forgotten Realms just kinda assumes all young rambunctious children played with slings and so all adult persons can use them too? After all, it is a different time period, where slings were popular among children! But by contrast, a light crossbow was designed to be usable even by relative laymen. The hardest part is loading it, and then you just point the business end in the right direction and pull the trigger.

So here we see our ranged-weapon-handicapped characters drawing on the weapons of their personal experience instead of slingshots XD.


	17. Griswold Winthrop

This is not the Foster Father you are looking for...

This ENTIRE CHAPTER is bonus Winthrop backstory ;) It is also slightly unpolished. Alas! But it's expository.

* * *

It was often said the Winthrop family was as big as its women. This was a tongue-in-cheek reference not only to the general size of the members, which tended to be big-boned and well over six feet tall even when elfish blood was involved, but also to the role the founder's daughters had played in establishing the family legacy.

When Gerald Winthrop had earned the barony for his bravery six generations back, he and his wife Berthilde had only managed to produce three children before age made future conceptions inadvisable. All three- named Winterbelle, Bjorka, and Cheymme, respectively- were girls. Big girls, of course, but nonetheless incapable of carrying on the family name. It was assumed the Winthrop clan was destined to be a small and short-lived one.

However, all three girls were taken with adventuring and thought little of the noble life. The eldest, Winterbelle, could hold a mighty warhammer in each hand. The middle daughter, Bjorka, preferred to spend her time hunting with her tame dire bear. The youngest, Cheymme, and the only one even remotely interested in court life, pledged herself to Chauntea and Lathander as a cleric and took up the flail.

The problems that plagued their lands were many, and the girls realized they had no interest in enjoying the settled life of gentlewomen that their father had won for them. Instead, all three women eschewed marriage, and together they stomped across the northern wilderness, fighting off brigands, orcs, ogres, winterwolves, a remorhaz and at last a clan of invading frost giants. Their exploits took them nearly ten years removed from their twentieth birthday but, by the end, the Winthrop family had more castles than they could man, and many previously inhospitable ruins had been resettled.

Gerald was made a Count in his old age, and each of his daughters was given a castle and a barony; leaving each of the three, thirty-year-old lasses the most eligible bachelorettes from Icewind Dale to Amn. To handle the influx of suitors, Cheymme settled into Castle Sunfire and began entertaining young noblemen by the handful. Gerald promised her that if she could find a husband among them, that she would inherit the county, as she would be the most impervious to political assault.

Unbeknownst to him, his daughters had sworn a blood pact with eachother, and now refused to marry any man who would not sign a matrillineal marriage contract. It took Cheymme three years of constant sifting, until she managed to uncover a young man from Waterdeep whose father had too many sons to land, and who was willing to agree to her terms. Overlooked and unwanted, her future husband was seven times the personality and twenty times the politician of his competitors. The fact that he was willing to marry a woman significantly older than himself was most likely also a draw.

Cheymme had five children. She herself inherited her father's Castle Blacksun, and left Castle Sunfire to her eldest son, Gaelar. Her dynasties were thereafter referred to as the Winthrop Blacks and the Winthrop Suns.

Bjorka did not settle firmly into Castle Dire until she had hit a ripe age of sixty, though she used it as a base of operations her entire life. She returned home one day with a Luskan ranger with Fae blood and yellow eyes, a bitter man that no one ever particularly liked (other than Bjorka and their children; but then, who actually liked Luskans?). Not to be outdone, the duo had no less than ten children, who were in part raised by the couple's tame bears. The joke went that at _least_ seven survived to adulthood. Bjorka's dynasty was the only one to remain completely matriarchal, with each new Baroness of Castle Dire being chosen from among the keep's battle-hardened wild mages and rangers. Her decedents were thereafter referred to as Winthrop Bears.

Winterbelle was the only one of the three women who could not seem to find a satisfactory life partner. She would joke that this was because she could never find a man who could defeat her in armed combat. She had wrestled giants, outfought whole tribes of seven-foot barbarian men, and- on occasion- become gravid with child. Unwilling to take a spouse or return to Castle White to rear the children, she fought on undaunted and unhampered, and most frequently left her progeny with their proud fathers.

At long last, discontent and lonely, Winterbelle Winthrop left the family lands to adventure in the Western Heartlands. When she returned at the ripe age of forty, she was carrying half elf twins, one in each hand instead of her war hammers. Her elusive spouse was apparently a moon elf wizard who, while his primary activities were based elsewhere, never failed to visit his family once weekly for the entirety of his wife's lifetime. The children of her bloodline became known as the Winthrop Twins, whether they were actually twins or not.

The girls' children were just as vivacious as they were, though many turned to court life or picked up trade. The county produced many phenomenal blacksmiths, famous masons, woodworkers, bowyers, bounty hungers, and exotic animal handlers. On and on the story went, down five generations of hardy folk in four intertwining lines, with each son and daughter producing big families. They often joked their health and stature was owed back to great Grandmother Berthilde's hearty mystery stew recipe, whose recipe was fiercely guarded and preserved to a dram across the generations.

The clan was big. Strong. Wealthy. Secure. Their lands were profitable, and the caravans were many.

There were at least five thousand people in the world who could tell you how they were related to Gerald Winthrop when the _sickness_ came to the lands. Five thousand; with at least a hundred recognized nobility for whom court functions could be found. _  
_

The _sickness_ was no disease. It was a man, a man named Vaelar Flamecrow He was a vampire. And by the time anyone knew he was there at all, Winthrop lands were a gray and paranoid place to be.

His infiltration was discovered the night Dellen Winthrop, who was of the Bears, drained his family dry in their sleep. He had been taken by the vampire and become his agent, and he was working to spread his master's influence. His actions- and subsequently Vaelar's existence, might never have been discovered at all, had not his mother Kaelan Winthrop resisted her new vampirism long enough to get a message out to each of the castles. She then burned down the home of every sleeping vampire she could sense in the city and, dying from sun poisoning herself as the sun rose, she martyred herself on the pyre of her own home.

The day Kaelan Winthrop of the Wolves, got her message out, the Winthrop Clan went to war with itself. The biggest problem was: It was never exactly clear from the start who was on which side.

* * *

_"Get them to safety!" his mother had told him as she'd seized up her flail from the weapon stand. "Take the trap door in the cellars! Run, Griswold! Run!"_

_"That bastard's in the next room!" he boomed back at her. "He's going to kill da! Are you going in there!? We all have to help him! If Vaelar dies, we all finally-!"_

_She backhanded him so hard across the face the world spun, and then grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to look her in the eyes. "Get your sisters to safety," she told him with all the severity and fierceness five generations of exceptionally tall and generously proportioned women wielding flails had bestowed upon her. He shuddered and nodded. As his mother tore out of the room, he turned around to look at his baby sisters. Marcy was ten, and he beckoned for her to follow as he took six-year-old Lilliput's hand in his and tugged her along. _

_"Chauntae will protect us," Marcy told him sagely._

_"No, L'thander," Lilliput countered, wiping tears out of her face._

_Griswold didn't care who the hell protected them as long as someone did. He hurried with his sisters down to the kitchen, using his mace to fight off two dazed vampire spawn and curses for his sisters not to scream. _

_He had taken a single step into the kitchen when someone lunged out of the shadows and plunged a dagger into his side. He didn't have time to make a judgement call; he swung with his morning star and caved the assailant's head in._

_It was a scullery maid. And if he waited, he'd bet she wasn't even a vampire. That was what this war had done to them! It had made them indistinguishable to one another. She'd stabbed him in self-defense and he'd killed her back, and neither of them were even compromised. _

_"Grizzly!" Lilly shrieked as he sagged momentarily into the wall, pulling out the knife and clutching at the wound. "Griz! Are you!?"_

_"Hush, hush, I'm fine!" he gasped, not seeing the way the two girls looked frightened and unsettled at one another. "I'm fine, don't let them hear you..."_

_He grimaced, regaining his feet and Lilliput's hand. He led both girls over to the doors of the cellar and led them down. At the bottom he put his wound to the test as he rolled a massive wine cask off of the cellar trap door and then opened its heavy lid. His exertions left him gasping and shuddering._

_"You are not okay!" Marcy protested, but he hushed her and told her to climb down. He climbed onto the ladder second to make sure Lilly was above him. He eased the trap door shut, placed a hand at the flat of the underside, and murmured the trigger words. They heard a scratching sound as the keg was pulled back into place. He descended slowly._

_The cellar trap door led into the Winthrop family tombs; ironically one of the last safe places for them to be! The halls were lit by warm yellow glow stones, and Griswold picked one up as they walked so he could have maximum control over lighting. "We need to get to the Chapel," Griswold told them. The Mourning Chapel was protected by powerful abjurations. Its initial and strongest protection, which forbade all from entering who were not of Winthrop blood, was sadly the least valuable of all in this perverse war. Vampires Winthrops were still Winthrops. There were other enchantments, however, ones that would prevent entry to anyone who was not welcomed inside. _

_"You need to lay down when we get there!" Marcy told him. "You are bleeding!"_

_"Don't worry about me," he told them, and then helped Lilliput down the last few ladder rungs to the ground and took up her hand again. "Come on!"_

_They got to the Chapel quickly. Griswold ushered the girls inside. He hadn't been there since his grandmother died, but it was as he remembered it; simple, small, with black mourning drapes and statues of Lathander and Chauntea on either side of a simple marble alter. Griswold quickly spoke the trigger words for the room's abjurations, and then shuddered and wiped sweat from his brow. _

_"Oh gods," Lilly whimpered, looking at where blood now slicked his side no doubt._

_"You need to lay down and rest," Marcy told him. "You fought us all the way down here and then lifted that big barrel! Maybe I can heal you, I did manage to make a little healing energy at lessons..."_

_Griswold nodded, and was halfway into kneeling when a sudden itchy sensation entered his head. He stood up and look wildly around before edging up against the chapel entrance. They weren't alone down there. Dare he go out?_

_"No," a voice in his head told him, cool and crisp. Griswold tensed, but it sounded nothing like Vaelar's voice. "You are not alone. I have something for you. Something that may help. Come and find my tomb."_

_"Shit," he muttered in disbelief, clutching at his temple. What the __hells was he hearing?_

_"What!?" Marcy cried. "Is it vampires!?"_

_The voice continued: "I sense you are injured. Do you not remember the incantation? Perhaps it has been lost with time. Go to the statue of Lathander. Touch it, and speak the celestial as I instruct you."_

_Honestly at that point, Griswold Winthrop of the Blacks had no idea what to believe. He looked confused at the alter, past the whimpers of his sisters. Then, hardly daring to believe what he'd heard, he walked up to statue of Lathander and did as instructed. The incantation was three words long, and he recognized them from his mother's prayers. Immediately, a wash of energy came over him, and he looked down to see that the wound in his side had healed. _

_"Wow!" Marcy exclaimed, jumping back. "I didn't know that!"_

_Lilly gave a huge sigh of relief, but then rubbed her face. "Still lots of blood," she mumbled. _

_Griswold grimaced, coming up to the edge of the shrine. How could he let the voice know that he had two sisters? He had to stay with them!_

_He heard it again: "I know. And there are also vampires down here. Two, I believe. Be careful. Be swift. The chapel will protect your sisters until your return."_

_Dare he trust the voice? It had known something about a family Chapel which only a Black would have known, and which apparently every Black had already forgotten. Technically he supposed it could be Vaelar with a disguised voice drawing knowledge from one of the older family members, but he doubted it; and anyway, if that was true, it meant the vampire had slaughtered his family and found him and his sisters and thus there was already no surviving. He had to hope it hadn't come to that._

_"You two need to stay here. I need to check something out."_

_"No!" exclaimed Marcy. "You have to stay with us! You are healed but you still lost a lot of blood and are tired! You should lay down and rest, and if you go out there you could die!"_

_"Stay. Here." He'd made up his mind. That voice had said something about helping him, and he'd told him the secret to the Lathander statue. Thinking about Vaelar only made him revisit his understanding of just how much danger his family was in. If the vampire did get through his parents, then it was only a matter of time before he and his sisters were also doomed. He needed to do _something_! Slipping out of the Mourning Chapel and ignoring the pleas of his sisters, he slunk quietly through the tomb._

_Hall by hall. Nothing. No signs of movement. The glowstones cast consistent shadows, and it was hard to imagine things at the corners of his vision. He hurried forward, drawn on by the itching in his head. Then at last he turned a corner and found IT standing there. It was entirely devoid of flesh or soft tissue; a skeleton dressed in the preserved robes of a Count, a bronze circlet upon his forehead._

_Griswold stopped short, gawking at it. Though obviously a skeleton, it was standing in the chamber of Gerald Winthrop I's tomb. A bright, white circle of hallowed energy danced easily around its feat, and the sigils Griswold vaguely associated with a protection from evil danced in circles around it. It- or he- looked almost saintly as he stood there. Clutched in his hands was a gnarled, ebon staff wrapped in darkened and blotchy gold, with a pale shard of wood visible on one side. _

_"You... you are..." the young man gasped, backing away in shock._

_"I am," the skeleton agreed without moving its jaws. "And I have waited for such a time as my guidance would be needed. Tell me boy, do you know the story of how the Winthrop Clan was founded?"_

_Griswold stared. Then slowly, wonder overwhelming his disbelief, he stepped forward. No unnatural aura radiated out from his creature. "I... I know the tales of the Winter Sisters..." he said slowly. "Your daughters."_

_"Understandable," the skeleton of Gerald Winthrop told him. "I was not as vocal with my tales as they were with theirs. It would explain why the clan has no memory of how we were awarded the original barony in the first place."_

_The young man hesitated. "In service to the Lord and Lady of Life?" he asked, meaning Chauntae and Lathander. _

_"A vague explanation," the skeleton told him. "It was liches, boy. I vanquished a cabal of liches on behalf of all. I am dead now, and I have very little left to give in defense of my family. But I have taken this with me to the grave in the hopes that it would remain safe until it was needed..." He offered forward the gnarled staff. "This staff was given to me in my long travels. Its life has been admittedly short and without excitement for an artifact of its potential. Perhaps I was greedy. Or perhaps with all of this vampire's subterfuge, I did the right thing. Either way, you must take it."_

_Griswold came up to the skeleton slowly, frowning as it offered to him the gnarled staff. "What... what exactly can it do?" he asked._

_"No miracles, I am afraid," the dead man said with a sad smile in his voice. "But it can be fought with, and in that respect you will find no greater friend against undead. The tip will glow in their presence, and become stronger the farther it is submerged into the darkness. It can change its shape with words I shall imprint upon your mind so that they are not forgotten. It is called The Sun Awakened to Emptiness. I called it Blacksun, and this very castle is named after it."_

_The young Winthrop took the staff slowly, feeling the strangely shaped wood and noticing that it felt warm. "It..." He grimaced. "That's only so much help. How can you fight something that's invulnerable, as fast as lgihtning, and can turn into mist... or hypnotise with its eyes?"_

_"That you must determine. Blacksun tower is dying above you. I predict by the time you get out, it will be dead." Griswold lifted his head, looking in horror at the skeleton._

_"My p-parents!?"_

_The skeleton was quiet a moment. Then it confirmed his fears: "You are the only one left who can carry this now."_

_"What...? No. No! No, I can't! What can I do that they couldn't!? They were both clerics! I was the ward of Castle Dire, I- I don't know magic, I can't talk to gods, I-I- what am I supposed to do!?"_

_Gerald Winthrop looked at him pityingly. "Your parents were caught unaware. They had not a fraction of their tools on hand. I can stay no longer; I can give no further answers. Go to your sisters. You are mine. You are a Winthrop. So are they. Look into their faces, and you will understand what you must do to save our family."_

_Then the skeleton and its holy aura dissipated into white smoke, retracting into its casket._

* * *

_Griswold walked heavily, numbly on his way back to the chapel for the first few seconds. His family... His parents... his brothers and older sisters... his aunts, his uncles... The young man's fingers tightened on the staff. Then he rushed forward. If it was true... if he had just lost everyone... then there were only two people left in the world that mattered._

_"Marcy!" he called as he reached the chapel entrance. "Say the command words to welcome me through the shield!"_

_"You're back! you're alive!" Lilly exclaimed. "Guh. But you still smell like blood."_

_Marcy nudged her and then quickly proclaimed the words. Griswold stepped through, looking down at their breaming faces. "Okay, now you've really got to lay-" Marcy began. Then her face screwed up in horror, and so did Lilliput's, and the two of them backed up from him._

_"What?" Griswold asked, looking behind himself and seeing nothing. He stepped up to them. "What's wrong!?"_

_"What is that!?" Marcy complained, pointing at the staff._

_"This is-!" he looked at the staff and then everything inside him went cold. The yellow tip was glowing. He stared at it for a moment and then slowly looked back to his sisters. There was one detail about Vaelar's sudden arrival in the keep that had never been explained, and which everyone had shouted helplessly about as they'd rushed to confront him. A vampire was _unable_ to enter the home of anyone, unless invited in. As large as the Winthrop family was, and as many people as called the castle home, there was only a very small group of people who- according to the Lathanderite clerics- could officially say that they owned the castle._

_"How...?" he whispered in horror._

_"How... how _what_?" Marcy asked. "Where did that come from? I don't like it! It's creepy! You aren't a vampire, are you?"_

_Lilly had a hand over her face and was gagging. "Marce! Marcy the smell, I can't take it anymore!" she cried. "The-the- Marcy he needed to go to sleep, s-so-!"_

_Griswold lowered a hand to his side. His wound had healed, but the fresh blood still soaked his tunic. He drew up his fingertips and looked at the red stains. Then he looked down at his sisters. Marcy was shaking slightly. "What's wrong?" she complained, looking frustrated. "You... you aren't-"_

_"How did he turn you?" Griswold asked._

_Marcy's eyes widened. A long moment past in silence. Then suddenly, everything about his little sister changed. She lunged at him, hissing between sharpened fangs. Her little legs carried her swifter than he would have thought was possible, and the first swipe she took at him with her fingernails as he jumped backwards, well, it tore open his shin to the bone._

_He cried out in shock and panic, and he did what he had done to the scullery maid. He _reacted_. He struck out at her with the quarterstaff, and it was as if the weapon had a will of its own and was pulling the strike true. He hit her back harder than he thought was possible, and then overturned the weapon to point downwards. She shrieked and lunged again. He plunged down. The yellow tip slammed down into her chest as if it had homed in on the target. Her eyes opened wide, her jaw falling slack. Then, instead of dissolving into mist, she crumbled downward from the blow and was still. There was no blood._

_"MARCY!" Lilliput screamed._

_Griswold stared down her body. His vision swam. A few seconds later, he realized this was because he was crying; and the tears were obscuring his vision. He lifted his head, looking up at Lilly. The tip of the staff was still glowing._

_Swallowing back on anguish, the young man stepped slowly forward. Lilly backed up from him, shaking with her lips parted in horror. She backed up into the wall as he advanced, and then dropped to her butt and started to cry._

_"H-he said we would b-be together again!" she cried. "He said it would w-work!"_

_"Who said?" Griswold whispered._

_"The m-man we m-met on the way back from visiting Aunt Lorinth!" she sobbed. Griswold paused._

_"That... Lilly, that was two years ago. B-before-... Lilly, mother was with you that day."_

_"He brought us drinks so we didn't have to hurt anyone!" Lilly sobbed. "And spells to make us warm! But m-mama said... m-mama said we could never b-be together like a r-real family again until we were all the same! She s-said we had to! She said t-to get you to go to sleep s-so it wouldn't h-hurt!"_

_His mother. His mother hadn't sent him away and gone running in to the battle to help his father. She'd gone in to make sure Vaelar successfully _killed_ him._

_Lilliput was hysterical. "I didn't want to do it but they all said it! Mama said it, Marcy said it, the man said it-! Marcy's dead! Marcy's dead!"_

_Slowly... carefully... Griswold knelt. He reached out to his baby sister, grimaced and hesitated, but then slowly reached out again. She did not move to lunge at him. He thought to put the staff down, but then realized he couldn't. He _couldn't_. Instead he grabbed her by the arm and tugged. She looked shakily at him and then scrambled into his lap, crying and hugging at him._

_"It was a story they told you," he whispered. "So you wouldn't be sad."_

_"But they all said it! They said we could be happy again!" _

_"It was a lie. If we could all be happy again, wouldn't you have just been able to ask me?" he whispered._

_She hesitated. Then the hiccups came as she started crying again. The young man scowled and wrapped his arm tightly about her, crushing her to him. "The s-s-smell!" she hiccuped, and he looked down at her. Her face was terrified. "The... the... Grizzly..." A look came into her eyes. A horrible look, hungry and simple and bestial. She opened her mouth and nipped at the air uncertainly, and he could see the fangs._

_"Lilly!" he warned. "Lilly, look at me!"_

_She tried, but her eyes drifted to the pulse of his neck. Her look became yearning and wide-eyed; the look of an excited cat ready to pounce. Alert, ready, empty, with just a thread of something cruel and malicious bubbling up from beneath. "You smell... good..." she mumbled past tears, nipping at the air slowly. "You... I love you..." she mumbled hungrily, her jaw quivering as her tongue tasted the air and her teeth opened and closed. _

_A grimace worked its way over his face; an expression of incredible pain. He got his hand slowly through her hair and on the back of her neck. Her skin was cold. "Lilliput..." She started squirming, pulling against his hand. His sister was leaving. Something _else_ was eating her up, bite by bite. "Lilly, I love you," he whispered, and then he choked his grip on the staff, and plunged the tip into her little breast._

_He stayed cradling her body for hours afterwards. _

_The tombs had entrances and exits all over the castle. Above him was a treasure trove of undead-slaying and clerical gear. If his father had indeed just been turned, there might have been a short span of time in which the man was able to resist his new powers to help his last living son. And whatever Vaelar's power, the vampire would be injured and need to return to wherever the hell his coffin way to sleep during the day. Castle Black would be filled with new vampire spawn, it was true; but those new vampire spawn would be sleeping, weak, and largely defenseless._

_The biggest trouble he'd encounter would be his own mother._

_He kissed Lilly's forehead gently and resolved to bury her properly when there was time. For now, he laid her and her sister down at the feet of Lathander and Chauntea; and then he picked up the Blacksun in hand._

_ Morning was coming._

* * *

_"What did the archmagi tell you about me?" the dour man asked as he counted his arrows. He had managed to recover all of of them from the bandits they'd killed that morning, and Gorion surmised that they carried a strong enchantment. Walking alongside him, a shaggy black wolf was sniffing the road. _

_The wizard looked up at his companion in surprise, pleasantly surprised at the opener. It had been three days since the two of them had left Baldur's Gate and, to be honest, Gorion had been bracing himself for a future spoken in grunts. He hesitated at the question for a moment and then looked down at the bottle of moonshine the two of them had liberated from the bandits. Then he looked back up at the vampire hunter._

_Mental Note: Alcohol yields higher quality conversation. __"Have another drink," Gorion recommended first, offering the bottle back to the big fellow. __The dark-clad ranger did as he was bid, swallowing a mouthful which would have knocked a lesser man to his rear. "Nothing much," he answered. "Your name: Griswold Winthrop. That you're not big on fame. You are considered the best vampire slayer in the Realms to people in the know. There are a number of villages who won't forget what you've done for them. You are technically employed by a Morning Lord. That's about all."_

_"Not Griswold, Just Winthrop," the ranger told him, offering the bottle down to the wizard. "Winthrop" towered over most men in the realms. He was fit: simultaneously burly _and_ graceful; and he struck a very intimidating silhouette beside the fairly average-sized Gorion. "No one's called me by my birth name in years."_

_"How much did they tell _you_?" Gorion wanted to know._

_"They were blunt about it. Which was refreshing. People who need my help are typically half afraid to admit it, even to themselves. I get a lot of half-veiled threats and doubts directed my way most jobs."_

_"What made you to accept, exactly?" he wanted to know. The task they were setting out on was nothing to make light of. He wanted to know what kind of personalities Khelben and the others had given him to work with._

_"When they told me what you would have to do. Then I got the jist of why they wanted me. It doesn't matter how badly something needs doing, or how good it is for the realms, or how much a god stands on your side; when it wears an innocent look to it, and yer task is murder, doing it is going to shake a man to the core." Winthrop eyed him. "Half my job is just to look after _you_."_

_"I am very capable," Gorion told him. "I know this task is going to be... difficult for everyone."_

_"Your trouble isn't a factor of your skills," the ranger told him. "It's that you're a halfway decent man. No one can do what you're about to, and not be touched by it. None of ye, none of ye that these magi have recruited; not even this cleric in Sembia they're sending us to work with."_

_The wizard looked at the bottle and then took another mouthful for himself. Gods, it burned. "... Do you know her?" he asked when he could._

_"Lullorin?" Winthrop asked. "No. She's got a reputation though, for skirting lines to gather information so she can get the job done."  
_

_"Sounds like the kind of person we need," Gorion murmured. "How old are you, Winthrop?"_

_"Thirty-one," the big man answered._

_"You sound tired of death. Ever think of retiring?" the wizard prompted._

_"Too much adrenaline in the blood now," the hunter answered. "The only place I have to go is home, and I don't belong there anymore. After all the blood spilled... there's too much fight in might and not enough calm. Can't settle. Too good at what I do. Thoughts of action would be plaguing me head every day." He looked up at the sky and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun as he got a sense for the time of day. "Think maybe one day I'll open a smithy or a tavern or something."_

_"Well then, I hope you find that source of 'calm' one day. I should like to try Winthrop's Famous Anti-Vampire Garlic Bread."_

_"Maybe. I think I'd want to leave all this life behind if I ever settled, though. Still waiting for a woman to make an honest man of me," he teased abruptly. _

_Gorion sighed. "Aren't we all? The only woman I seem to be able to get along with consistently is Chai, and she still becomes quite cross if I run out of peanuts."_

_"Who?"_

_The mage woke up the sugar glider, and soon Chai was running circles round the top of his hood, squealing in delight._

_"Ah." Winthrop looked down at his wolf. "Lill, why haven't you made an honest man out of me?" he asked the creature. The beast just cocked its (her?) head to the side, sniffed his hand, and then trotted ahead of them on the path to find a rabbit. "I think we need to find new girlfriends, Gorion. Ours are just after our food."__  
_

The wizard smiled. Well, at least the ranger wasn't an angry drunk. He probably ought to withhold any additional moonshine for at least an hour, though, lest the man break down crying or some such.

* * *

I've just realized this fanfiction advocates alcohol use wayyyyy too much. Would you believe that I don't drink? Kids, be responsible! Out of everyone I've ever met, the people who are drunk the most frequently are the least happy in general .


	18. Being a Ranger

Back to our regularly scheduled programming! (Well it was fun to have tried something new XD)

Cookies to the first one who can figure out what Imoen's new weapon is in reference to btw ;) I'm still waiting for one of the like 4 people reading this from HK/Japan/Korea/China to shout it out XD.

* * *

"Tell Boo if he eats those berries, he's going to regret it," Aegis advised her traveling companion.

Aegis and Minsc hade taken off like lightning soon after the armor fitting. In light leathers and with little gear, the two rangers had made overland times nearly half of what they were for a big party; especially a big party with three vulnerable wizards and people wearing plate.

Melicamp had, after his initial fluster had died down, been willing to oversee the sale of his master's wares while Thaylantyr studied. Melicamp had been so good at haggling and Aegis and Minsc were so terrible that he had swiftly marked the goods up by two hundred percent. They had decided to give him this victory, seeing as the scroll was inexpensive the chicken looked like he needed a win or two. Now they were on the way back, and the sun was low in the sky.

"I have forgotten to bring him any crackers," the barbarian lamented.

"Yeah? Well, those berries are poisonous."

Minsc gasped and looked horrified at his companion. The hamster squeaked in surprise, and then promptly threw the berries away from himself and looked guiltily up at Minsc. "Boo! Minsc is _surprised_ at you!" the ranger announced. "He thought you more discerning than this!" Squeaky explanations followed suit. They'd looked just like something else entirely, Boo swore!

There was a rustle ahead of them, a crack. Aegis paused, wondering why she didn't hear any birds.

"Aegis...?" Minsc hesitated. "Something... _else_ is wrong."

The blonde woman agreed, nodding and motioning to the side. "Trees," she instructed. The two rangers darted to the side, taking cover just as Urso rejoined them and chattered a warning. Then they heard the hooting laughter of hobgoblins, and a number of the burly creatures stepped out from their hiding places in the surrounding foliage, their bows drawn.

"You are surrounded, Aegis of Candlekeep!" their leader laughed.

_Well, that's not entirely true_. The duo of rangers hadn't walked _completely_ into the ambush; but they also didn't have enough ranged instruments on their side, nor the kind of armor they'd need to go charging off blindly into hobgoblin shortbows. There was also nowhere in particular for them to retreat or run to, unless they could somehow skirt the hobgoblins all-together and then run the rest of the way to Beregost.

Perhaps they could kit the monsters backwards. Hobgoblins were tough because they were clever, strong, and orderly; but they might be significantly less effective if Minsc and Aegis could turn them about in a skeleton infested forest. Isolated and strung out, or bunched up in a group; anything would be better than a militarily spaced-out ring!

"If I were surrounded, I'd already be dead!" she called.

"Ha! Tazok's got quite the bounty on your pretty blonde head!" the hobgoblin told her. "Why don't you come out and share a bit of it with each of us, eh?"

"I don't think you appreciate just how many loud-mouthed hobgoblin bandits I've killed this week," she retorted as she and Minsc tried to ease back into a better strategic position for handling this situation.

"That ain't no way to make friends. Specially when you had wizards then! Boys! Get a pincer on her."

Minsc had eased his emergency longbow off of his shoulder and, Aegis thought, his 'emergency archery skills' were far superior to what hers would ever be. She reached down to her belt and eased out one of the slender tomahawks she'd purchased only that morning. Taking them had nearly been an oversight on her part, and as she had never gotten the chance to practice with them, she wagered her chances of taking down a target were not _particularly_ high. She had a medium shield with her, however; and she could at least provide Minsc some cover.

"We need to pick off a couple at least without getting hit," Aegis told the Rashemi.

The bald man nodded. "Minsc's tiny flying swords of goodness will be swift," he told her solemnly, but then winked. She smirked. The two of them had two healing potions each; they just needed to _survive_. Beregost wasn't far.

"Now," Aegis told him. She moved first, rolling into view and thrusting out her shield. THe hobgoblins fired on her rapid movement, their shafts snapping as steel heads thudded up against her shield. She felt a hard thud at her leg and then a bloom of pain. Gods, what she wouldn't give for her new tower shield! She cocked her arm to throw as. Minsc stepped out behind her almost instantly, putting an arrow into a hobgoblin approaching on their flank. She followed through with the nearest hobgoblin after that, throwing the axe.

It was weighted _beautifully_. Much better than her huntsmans' axe for such a task. She didn't pull off the throw perfectly, but the narrow crescent tip sank deep into her target's chest, and the hobgoblin dropped gasping to its knees. Then another volley of arrows was coming at the two of them, and MInsc was hauling her swiftly back behind the tree.

"You said _not_ to get hit!" the barbarian protested, and Aegis glared down at the barbed broadhead submerged in her thigh. She touched the shaft and then snarled to herself. She could leave it in and try to go berserk when she finally had to charge. Or she could ask Minsc for his belt knife and try to do some rapid healing-potion-induced surgery right that second. Decisions.

Minsc handed her the knife. She cursed, knowing the hobgoblins were creeping up all around them, but realizing that any prolonged struggle was going to be next to impossible if she didn't fix her leg.

Abruptly, a shout of surprise flew up from the hobgoblin, followed swiftly by an enormous bellow: "It's The FUCKING ELF!"

Minsc and Aegis looked at eachother. " 'The Fucking Elf?'"

"Forget the bounty! Forget the mark! Get out your heart-seeker arrows and take him down! Shaman, light him up so we can see! He's not getting us, not this time-!" The voice cut off abruptly in a roar of pain. "SHOOT HIM!"

Aegis re-sheathed the Rashemi's belt knife. No time. "Minsc!" she demanded. "Tag-team rage!"

Minsc had been frowning puzzled as he'd slowly put together the word 'elf' and the severity of the hobgoblin response with any other useful information in his mind. He seemed to remember everyone talking about some elf ranger who hated bandits. At Aegis' demand however, he put these thoughts out of mind and grinned broadly. "Ah! They are distracted!" He shouldered his bow and pulled his claymore off his back to properly unsheathe it. "Yes! I am ready! On the count of three?" Aegis nodded. "Two!" She snapped off the haft of the arrow, understanding that she'd be aggravating the wound and would most certainly have to deal with it later. "One!"

The hobgoblins were firing out and upward into the woods. Their leader was crouched low behind a shield, shouting orders and tearing a green-feathered arrow out of his chest. A shaman knelt beside him, maintaining a magical blue shield and healing him. "Hold your arrows!" he roared. "Wait for the glow!"

There was a blur of illuminated movement. A cloaked figure was up in the branches. He darted out from behind a tree trunk, ducking low as hobgoblin arrows flew over his head. He fired, and three arrows came pelting out of the darkness. One was successfully turned aside by armor but, of the other two, one sink deep into a hobgoblin archer's throat and the other took one down firmly at the chest.

The cloaked figure, whom Aegis of course had to assume was an elf- who else would be _in the trees_?- dashed and rolled gracefully along the branch that he made leaping down to another branch and, in fact, an entirely different tree, seem as if it took no planning or effort whatsoever. He was illuminated in violet faerie fire, presumably a tactic employed by the shaman, but he moved so swiftly that he was hardly an easy target.

He loosed a final arrow and disappeared behind another tree trunk.

"Shoot where he'll _be_, not where he _is_, you stupid curs! Or you'll be meeting Maglubiyet this afternoon and tellin' him about how you were all whipped and scalped by an ELF! You-"

The elf bolted out behind the next tree trunk, higher. The shaman was casting something. The hobgoblins fired and there was a roar when the elfin arrows successfully downed no targets. "Yes!" one of the archers bellowed laughingly. "We hit him!"

"Finally! Do it again! You hear that elf!? We are going to stick you so full of holes that Tazok won't know you apart from carrion when we hand your bloodied ass over to him!"

"Kaguk!" one of the archers shouted. "The mark-!"

"Evil, meet sword! SWORD MEET EVIL!" a Rashemi bellowed, bowling straight through the largest collection of archers with a mighty sweep of his claymore. Limbs and bow halves went flying comically through the air.

Aegis roared after him, slamming full force into one of the guards flanking the shielded leader and knocking him straight into his shield-mate. Her axe came down in furious overhand chops, cleaving open one's chest and the other's back. Then she whirled viciously towards two fierce brutes with composite bows, nocking arrows point-blank on her injured side.

_Shield. _She caught one arrow on the shield. Another whizzed past her face, slashing open her cheek and ear. With a scream, she started forward. Then green-feathered shafts bloomed out of her adversaries' throat and eye. She swatted their falling bodies straight out of her way. The hobgoblin leader was there, standing up and hoisting his shield. He snatched a flameberge from the ground in but a single hand and roared at her.

Aegis charged. He led high with his sword. She shoved up low with her shield. She rammed the defensive structure high up under his falling elbow, breaking the motion of the fall. The edge of his shield came down to buffet her in the side of the head, but she had her axe low and she drew it in a hard horizontal sweep across his thighs.

His exclamation of pain was enough. His shield bash shoved her back for only an instant and then she'd pounced upon him, hacking madly at his torso and face as he dropped both the two-hander and the shield and tried to grapple with her. She vaguely heard the shaman's chanting before an arrow from above silenced him, too.

* * *

The forest was quiet but for Aegis' labored breathing. She stood over the nearly unrecognizable body of the hobgoblin commander, splattered in blood. She tried to determine if her rages were getting worse, or if this was par for the course. She thought about the ogre she'd slain, and decided she was actually _improving_ on self-control.

Minsc tromped over, gleefully sporting numerous injuries from hastily drawn swords. In general, his leathers seemed to have protected him, and he was not seriously harmed. "Hahah! Liberal measures of butt kicking were successfully distributed this day!" he boomed, thumping himself on the chest and her on the shoulder.

There was a soft rustle nearby, no more conspicuous than the gentle rumple of snakeskin over old leaves. When Aegis turned, she found their mysterious hooded figure had dropped down from the tree beside them. Though still limed in bright Faerie Fire, his clothing was splattered in such natural and chaotic browns, greens, and yellows that he still seemed to blend in with the scenery behind him. It was no great wonder why the hobgoblins had suffered so badly in taking him down.

He stood slowly from his crouch but did not lift his head, such that his hood shielded the majority of his face from the light. He held his bow horizontally with two arrows nocked and the string drawn halfway.

Minsc looked thrilled with the elf's sudden appearance, as if his mixed stealth and deadliness were absolutely and fantastically delightful. "Ho! You made timely rescue of us!" the barbarian laughed. "And you did not even use a sword! Boo and Minsc are impressed! Aegis and Urso too, I'm sure..."

The elf didn't answer immediately, apparently still studying them. There was something odd about him, Aegis thought; Like a personal, invisible thundercloud was following him. She tried to shake the sensation.

"I..." Aegis hesitated, heaving her shield up onto her back and then grabbing painfully at her leg. "I think we've _heard_ of you," she said slowly. "You're the one who has been hunting bandits-"

"And you are remarkably ill-equipped to be getting hunted by them," the man retorted sharply. His voice was as if someone had tried and failed to smooth out a gravelly road; it was a forced and breathy sounding growl.

"We were running a quick errand for our group," Aegis explained. "We had no reason to expect such a massive, planned ambush. I suppose we got unlucky and they saw us going one way... and figured we'd inevitably have to come back..."

"Your assailants mentioned a bounty," the cloaked man reminded her. "Explain."

"I'm not sure. We know the bandits were involved with the trouble in Nashkel and I led the group that rooted them out. Personally, though, we are pretty sure their leaders have a connection with the mysterious man who murdered my father. We are not sure who he is or why he's after me."

The elf seemed to consider this.

"We've... We want to gear up better to assault the main bandit camp. Judging by how the hobgoblins just freak out, you are the 'elf ranger' whom we were recommended to talk to by the innkeep at the Juggler-"

"I don't babysit children," he told her, lowering his bow and moving to replace his arrows into his quiver.

"We're-"

He lifted his hand to stop her from talking, shouldered his bow, and then pushed his cloak aside. Abruptly she realized he'd taken an arrow at the waist. He touched the broken shaft uncertainly. He didn't seemed surprised by the injury, nor did he demonstrate the pain she felt would be appropriate for the situation. Instead he seemed perplexed by some other sensation. Then a curse escaped his lips. He seized the remainder of the shaft and braced his other hand against his armor to pull the arrow free. It had a long, straight, bodkin tip.

When he staggered, Aegis realized something was wrong. His arms were trembling as he snarled and threw aside the shaft. Then he glided past them in a silent, cloaked fury and knelt beside the hobgoblin bodies, searching them quickly and efficiently.

"Antidote," Aegis realized. "Minsc, look for potion bottles."

"What!? Poison!" the big man exclaimed. "Our silent, deadly, tree friend needs help, Boo! Search with your nose! Lead swiftly!"

Aegis limped to the shaman's body and searched him first. When she found no antidote on the person she felt was most qualified to be carrying one, that was when she began to worry. She looked back to see the elf seemed to have come to similarly negative findings. If the poison had been magically conjured, it might have been applied by the shaman; and as such the archers might not have actually carried antidotes themselves. Scowling at the corpses, he stood up with an arrow in hand, holding the tip close to his face for examination. Then he threw it to the ground and began to rummage about in his belt pouches for herbs. He might not have had a panacea on hand, but if he had anywhere near Jaheira's knowledge of herbs then perhaps he could at least slow or mitigate the poison.

"We're only an hour out of Beregost," Aegis began. "Are you okay-"

He dropped involuntarily to his knees, still shaking, and she cursed and came up swiftly beside him. He snarled, lifting a hand to ward her off. "Not like this," he muttered bitterly, already sure of what would happen. "I am not going to die like this. Do not come near me."

Something _old_ stirred up in Aegis. Something personal, and something not; something terrifying. She felt it bloom up through her stomach and tingle out to her fingertips, and she stared down at the hooded elf in surprise. She felt... recognition. Familiarity? Curiosity. She felt _death_. It swam around him like a spectral mantle, at once protecting him and claiming him. She realized she had to be gawking at him in fascination, a habit she had not consciously had to repress for a very long time. Fortunately, he hadn't noticed; he was too busy carefully measuring and feeding himself pinches of herbs.

"No good green potions!" Minsc pouted as he joined Aegis. He held out one of the arrows to her. "Do you recognize the smell? Boo says you might!"

She took it and sniffed the tip. Then her nose wrinkled. "It smells kinda like foxglove," she said in surprise. Her mind darted back to a hundred books and herbal preparations. Then she looked wide-eyed to the elf. "Elf, those aren't just muscle spasms; You're on the verge of having a _seizure_!" she called to him.

"Yes. Fine. Then I shall have one," he growled, curling over and trying to keep the herbs down for as long as he could. He needed to be very willful about not throwing up.

Aegis grimaced, and that old familiarity bloomed in her. Her fingertips tingled with a rush of sensation. She thought of Jaheira's magic, of her constant nightmares, of the way she hadn't been able to sleep that night with Xzar gone, and finally of Nimbul and Tranzig. She stepped towards the elf almost instinctively, crouching slightly. Then she scowled in surprise, backing off. The elf had produced a long skinning knife and pointed it at her, his forearm braced against the ground to steady it.

"Are you mad?! Get everything sharp away from yourself!" Aegis snarled.

"Away from me first, human," he intoned in a low voice. "I've no trust for you, nor intent to let you close."

"Unless you are completely daft you should realize I could kill you while you're throwing a foaming tantrum on the ground. We have healing potions; at least let me dress the wound so you don't bleed to death!"

"Get. Back."

Aegis raked her hands through her hair, stepping back in frustration. Then her eyes widened in memory. "Minsc. Minsc, do your remember those berries Boo was eating? Have him find them. _Hurry_."

The barbarian was surprised by the strange request, but in general he trusted Aegis and Boo together to be much more competent in these matters than he was. He knelt down and plopped Boo gently down on the ground, and the hamster skittered off with Minsc and Urso in tow. Aegis watched them go and then looked down at the elf anxiously, watching as he re-sheathed his knife and clenched his arms hard against his abdomen.

Boo had not dropped the berries very far away, and within moments Urso had bounded back up to her and was offering her the bright red fruits. She shook her head and pointed to the elf. "To him. Do you understand? Give them to him. He doesn't like me. Please talk to him about that by the way." This seemed to startle the elf, and Aegis grimaced. "They're belladonna fruit," she told him as Urso hopped over to comply.

The elf rocked for a moment. Then as the raccoon approached him he painfully uncoiled himself and sat backwards from the kneeling position. His tremors looked violently painful, but he lifted a hand expectantly, and Urso placed the ripe and toxic berries into his palm. He brought one shakily to his mouth and bit in, consuming only a small fraction of the fruit and gauging the dosage by instinct alone.

Urso hopped about the elf, sniffing him. Then he bounded back to Aegis as Minsc and Boo returned. "Wait," The barbarian was confused. "I thought the red berries were also poison?"

"They are," Aegis answered. "They're called deadly nightshade for a reason. Unless you've just been poisoned by foxglove, or fuzzy mushrooms or some-such. Then they're an antidote."

Minsc blinked and conferred with his hamster. "Boo is making a note of this, but politely asks for clarification on one point: What is a 'sei-zure?'"

"... When someone falls to the ground and begins flailing about wildly out of control," Aegis explained patiently. Minsc made a face that suggested he might have seen or endured one or two of those in his time, and was quite happy that their new 'sneaky elf friend' might have been saved from such a trial.

Aegis noticed the elf was no longer trembling so hard. She gave him a moment more of awkward silence as Minsc and Boo discussed. Then she tried to approach their new 'friend' again. This time, he did not draw a knife. "So..." she hesitated, stopping beside him. That mantle of death was still there, but she was pretty sure she had gotten over the need to stare. "Can I _please_ dress your wound?"

"You have an arrow in your leg," he observed. "Your trousers are slick in your own blood."

"Well, we could trade," she suggested. "I got lucky, and mine missed an artery. You on the other hand might have a perforated bowel..."

The elf harrumphed. Then, still trembling slightly, he gestured to the ground beside himself. Aegis loosed a silent, relieved breath, and then settled down as Minsc came up to have a watchful look about them.

"I'm Aegis," she told him, ignoring her bloody leg as she moved to try and inspect the elf's side. "This is Minsc. I'm borrowing him from his Rashemi Wychlaran since we were the only two available who might be able to make this hike in an afternoon."

The elf lifted a hand to ease his hood back a few inches. "Kivan," he supplied after a long silence. He was marked with green warpaint and had similarly green eyes. Little else could be seen in such lighting.

"Aegis! Boo, Urso, and Minsc shall keep on the watchful for out-of-the-body skeletons," Minsc informed her. "We made a great deal of noise, and Boo thinks he smells the stench of evil to the south! Can we borrow your shield?"

"It's all yours big guy," she said, easing the shield off and passing it up to him. "Um, Minsc, you only have a twohand-"

"Watching hobgoblins has given me an idea!" he announced, and then charged off into the woods with the claymore in one hand and her shield in the other.

"Eh..." Aegis watched him go and then shrugged, and turned back to unstrapping the elf's armor. The hauberk was leather brigandine and could be opened at the front easily rather than needing to be pulled off over the head.

"Is he a little..." Kivan asked, "addled...?"

"It's what you get when you recruit on talent," Aegis gave her tried and true answer to that question. "His talents are being enormous, big-hearted, and good at cutting things in half. And he is _hardly_ the worst I've got in my bag of tricks." The elf flinched the moment her fingers got up under his tunic and touched his skin, long before she came anywhere near the wound. The motion was so abrupt and sharp that even his trembling could not disguise it. For a moment she wondered if Xan was unique or if all elves were flighty. Then she realized she was touching scar tissue. Almost _nothing_ but scar tissue. As she detached his tunic from the arrow wound, she uncovered layers and layers of thick white scars she immediately realized she had absolutely no right whatsoever to ask him about.

Trying to ignore the aura of death about him now more than ever, Aegis pushed his shoulder to lean him over a little and then sat to examining the wound. A badly healed perforated bowel from a blow to the stomach wouldn't kill a person, and it could be fixed later by Kelddath no doubt; but the total injury looked like it needed two healing potions at least and with Minsc gone, this meant she had nothing for curing her leg.

_I can smell septic. This should be done right the first time. Well. Suppose I can't hide the ability to spontaneously conjure healing energy forever. Trouble is, I can't do very much so... I'll have to do it cleverly._

"Okay, bare with me." He elf let out a startled snarl when she pressed a finger straight into the bodkin wound, abdominal muscles coiling to resist the intrusion. Aegis had no words with which to summon forth divine energy, and apparently did not require them. White plumes licked down her hand, channeling into his body. He grabbed at her arm and then gave a confused grunt as she retracted her hand, leaving the flesh raw and pink.

It was only a few moments later that she realized his trembling had also ceased abruptly. Kivan looked at her in bafflement, but said nothing as she reached to her belt and then pulled out one of the healing potions for him. "Drink up... it should be fine."

* * *

_Lullorin was the name of the cleric of Lathander that Griswold and Winthrop had been sent to work with, and she met them at their tavern rather than the temple proper. Sembia's notorious fall rains were coming early that year, and so she hailed them in a pale yellow cloak as they approached. The group could not see much of each other where they stood, but Gorion's and Lullorin's __Harper Pins w_ere plenty enough to quickly establish their identities. They got inside and out of the rain, and quickly moved to join a hooded member of one of the smallfolk races over at a table in the corner, that they might discuss their business.

_Or they would have, had not Gorion stopped outright and stared perplexed at the woman. She was a half elf, he registered, with golden hair that flowed around her in layered and braided rivulets. Her eyes were liquid pools of deepest amethyst, and she moved with a lightness and grace to her actions that bellied her elvish plate. _

_Withrop paused when he'd noticed Gorion. He looked between the wizard and the gloriously golden elf, and then a smug grin slowly overtook the dour expression he normally wore. He walked back and grabbed the aasimar's shoulder, and slowly propelled him forward. "Saaay helllooo..." he teased._

_Lullorin looked back at them in surprise. Their fourth member, the hooded individual of a smaller race, pushed back her hood and revealed herself to be a halfling woman smoking a pipe, with a blind eye and a nasty scar across her face. "Lull?" she asked casually._

_"Hello," Gorion obeyed, a blush rising in his face._

_Lullorin took stock of his condition and then a small, mischievous grin took her, and her eyes closed to laughing slits. "Well this hasn't happened to me in awhile," she decided aloud. "Now I'm most certainly feeling younger than my age."_

_"I- I'm sorry," the wizard apologized, looking at the ground. "It was inappropriate of me to stare, especially with the nature of this meeting hanging in the air."_

_Lullorin's face sobered as the halfling gave an evil grin. "Well," the cleric agreed, "you may be right. Still, it is good to meet you. I am Lullorin, and this is our assistant, thief, and dungeoneering expert, Tallix. She is incredibly bad-mouthed and intolerably raunchy, I'll warn you now. Don't pay any consideration to that."_

_The halfling grinned, chewing her pipe and looking the aasimar up and down. "My, that's fine. Lull, if you don't get laid tonight, Imma be dissapointed in ye!"_

_Both aasimar and half elf turned funny shades of red, as Winthrop broke out laughing and moved over to investigate this terribly wretched little miscreant Lullorin had called 'Tallix.'_

_"Ye must be Winthrop," the thief introduced herself. "Big lad, ain't ye?"_

_"None of that," the vampire hunter told her. "I'm wing-manning you out of this conversation. Now tell me who you are, old hag."_

_She laughed hard, and blew a smoke ring at him. "Tallix Snapdragon, thief extraordinaire; it's why ye've never heard of me, truly. Lullorin's got me scouting out her targets in the area. We've got two other boys on the ground, one coming in from a brief trip ta Cormyr, and the other helpin' me track down leads."_

_"What's your interest in all this?" he wanted to know, because she didn't seem the type for noble quests._

_"Revenge, coin, and cushy benefits," she told him. "But once I'm bought and paid for, ye see, I don't trade up. Pays to know who ye work for in this business. So put your head to ease on that. Tell me a bit about yerself, vampire hunter. All I know are the most boring tidbits, but I peg ye for the broodin' vigilante type."_

_"Technically I am completely and legally employed by a church," he pointed out._

_"Well then let's start from that, cause it's news ta me. Bartender! Get this man an ale! Or four. How the hell much can ye drink, lad? Nae, don't tell me, I wanna be surprised."_


	19. Picnic

It has occurred to me that I should probably label this fiction with [May Contain Triggers]. The people in Faerun, while remarkably more gender-equal than Medieval Europe, don't really have advanced victim sensitivity educations. The sheer number of times Xan's situation ends up turning into the butt of a joke would surely be traumatizing to anyone who had ever been genuinely molested... Not to mention, there are legitimately _evil _people in this party who have horrible unfeeling conversations with him about the matter...

* * *

It was a very pleasant day after all the rain they'd endured on the way north. The grass was lush, the sun was hot, and the sky was blue with puffy white clouds. Soft thuds sounded every few seconds as Imoen put another arrow into her target. Her new bow had considerably more tension than she was used to, and the action of pulling it was surely going to force her to build up just a little more strength.

Xan approached her to make sure she wasn't alone, and found that Edwin was already with her. The conjurer was leaned up against a nearby oak tree, one leg crossed over the other at the knee, a number of studying supplies around him and weighted down with loose stones. His wine bottle was almost finished beside him, but he seemed to hold it well. Edwin was significantly less menacing looking in common clothing, but he still had a piercing look about him as he studied a fresh scroll.

{Once again,} the Red Wizard called, picking up the quill and wetting the tip. {Green, half the size, and twice the brightness.} Imoen breathed out as she loosed her next arrow. She took notice of where the shot had landed and then blew hair out of her face. Then she started hazarding out a verbal description of the draconic layout for just such a _Light__ spell. _She nocked another arrow as Edwin turned the scroll over and began jotting down notes to make sure he understood what he was about to transcribe.

Xan could not understand a word of Mulhorandi but, as Imoen's answer was largely in draconic, he was quite surprised by what he was hearing. She was spellcrafting? On the fly? Without paper, without a reference, and without any formal background in magic? The elf enchanter stared, tilting his head to the side.

Edwin interrupted her. {No, no, no, no. Your Rs, child, Draconic rolls its Rs. Just as in Mulhorandi. If we can correct one of your most disgusting pronunciation errors today___,_ let it be_ that _one!_______}_

"Well, we can't all have _outrageous_ accents like some people!" she laughed. "I don't know how to roll them!"

{It is not particularly complicated. Rl-rl-rl-rl-rl-rl. No? Simple! (Of course it is simple, what could be simpler than a consonant?)}

"You're _muttering_ again grumpy-face!"

"Well perhaps I intended to! And my accent is not 'outrageous;_' _It is understandable, which is something your Mulhorandi and Draconic are most certainly not. In fact, I do think I improve upon Thorasta as spoken by you barbarians!"

"Ya know, I was so just about to say how pretty that accent would sound if you ever said something nice once in awhile. But you're just such a sour-puss, so, nope, sir, I would like to let you know that you sound like severe tummy pains and hairballs! Hehehehe!"

"Pretty!? My accent is not 'pretty' it is entirely-"

"-and utterly emasculating. Girlish, really; well, childish, if I were to be totally honest, but-"

"Bah. Nasty whelp. This is what I get for attempting to help you," he muttered, examining his notes.

"Eh, the sunshine's good for you," she grinned.

Xan wasn't exactly sure what fascinating sort of magic lesson he'd walked in on, but if Edwin and Imoen had some secrets, then now seemed a fine enough time to provide the illusion that he had overheard nothing. He stepped forward as if he had just arrived, calling out a greeting to Imoen in elvish as he came up beside Edwin. The Thayvian glanced up at him and sneered a little, but turned back to his work.

As self-centered and confrontational as Edwin might have been, the girls had gotten to him fast enough to soothe his bruised ego and settle his barbed temper. Aegis might have credited Imoen with understanding the wizard, but it was Aegis who had noticed that alcohol had a measurable depressive effect on Edwin's ill will.

"Oh look. It's the elf who cried 'rape.' How did the armor fitting go?"

Eh. Alcohol did seem to loosen his already lax tongue, however. Xan sighed. "I am sorry, Edwin. Even you asked Viconia to leave me alone on the issue. Involving you was uncalled for and disrespectful." He settled down on the grass to watch Imoen practice.

"It is going to take _much_ more than an apology to make me forget the humility of that scene."

"If it is any comfort to you at all, I did it because she seems to find you threatening. I was actually expecting you to ply your sarcasm and unsettle her."

Edwin considered that and, remarkably, he did seem a little mollified. Hearing that he'd been intended as an ally and not as a target left him more irritable at Xan's poor strategic reasoning than personally insulted by him. "Like I said: Next time naked and not covered in waste. Then I will, ehm, happily _unsettle_ her for you."

Xan wouldn't have wished genuine molestation on anyone, even Viconia, but he doubted saying so would advance the conversation with Edwin in any useful direction. "Well," he offered instead, "I didn't want her to kill _you__ either."_

The Thayvian grinned at that. "Then you ought to have stripped her naked and ran her around dancing and calling out praises to Elistrae," he suggested.

Xan hesitated. "Now... _there_ is an idea," he murmured. "Clearly I should have counseled you on this matter beforehand."

"I am not anywhere near going to let you off your hook for words, elf," the Red Wizard told him, but his hostility was muffled. "You are just buying time to think up something better."

Imoen looked up when she saw Dynaheir was heading towards them with blankets and a basket of food. The pink girl waved and then nocked another arrow. Dynaheir joined the other two wizards and quickly settled the blanket down and knelt on it, and waved for Xan to join her. Edwin lifted a brow.

"What... are you doing, exactly?" he inquired as Dynaheir settled down her basket.

"Having a picnic," the witch announced innocently. "I thought thou might be a little hungry or thirsty, so I brought sandwiches. Viconia and Branwen are coming shortly."

Xan cringed. "Perhaps I should not be here when Viconia arrives..."

"We have spoken at length with Viconia," Dynaheir told the elf, patting his arm gently. "And we have diffused the situation, even if we were not able to repair it entirely. Now, here is a vegetable wrap for thee. I am afraid I am nowhere near the culinary expert that Imoen is, but I do know something on the matter."

Xan took his meal and inspected it with no small surprise. Edwin lifted a brow, easing his spellbook closed. "The Monkey can cook?"

"Edwin, I am a _tavern _wench!" Imoen laughed. "My dad owns Candlekeep inn! Of course I can cook! Why, I'd dare say I can cook some of the best food in the Western Heartlands!"

The Thayvian considered this, and then gave Dynaheir a perplexed expression when she offered him a sandwich. "Are you mad, woman? Why would I accept any food you offered me? (Not that we haven't had plenty of other opportunities to poison each other, but still, it is the principle of the matter!)"

"Well, it is this or go hungry until thou are beset by the inconvenience of walking all the way to the inn," Dynaheir sighed.

Edwin looked from her to the food, and then gave an almost accusatory glare at the wine bottle sitting next to him. Finally he grimaced and took the the offered food from her. He inspected it for anything obviously wrong and then just shook his head at how unbelievably _stupid_ the witch was for thinking she could somehow prevent their inevitable confrontation with acts of kindness. He took a bite anyway, for the same basic reason he'd let her carry his food for him in Nashkel. Perhaps accepting these gestures would lower her guard and make things easier for him in the long run.

"Ah, there our clerics are," Dynaheir noted, waving the two women over.

{Pay attention to something, Monkey,} Edwin growled after he'd washed down the first bites with wine.

{Yes Dragon?}

{You are... _not..._ a tavern wench. Many things: a monkey, pink, annoying, loud, naive, gullible, a mage, a thief, a little stupid... But, ehm, most definitely not a tavern wench. (Precisely, that appellation shall not do, it devalues our decision to mentor her...)}

{Oh I'm not?} The thief asked, abandoning her archery and coming up to see if Dynaheir had anything tasty for her at the picnic. {I see. And how did you come to this well-researched conclusion?}

He considered a moment. {I haven't slept with you yet,} he said matter-of-factly, with a haughty grin on his face and a teasing expression in his eyes. {Clearly _not_ a tavern wench.}

Dynaheir cringed and twitched. Imoen's face creased into an absurd expression and then she broke out howling with laughter, and the Thayvian smirked. The thief plopped down and made a sign against evil against her mentor. {Back, back, unclean, unclean!}

He rolled his eyes, and then tossed a few leaves of paper into her lap. {Scribe that light spell, fool child. And practice your Rs. Also, if I am unclean, it is only because half of everyone here has dropped shit on me.}

Xan looked at Dynaheir questioningly as Viconia and Branwen approached. "What was that you just flinched at, and which which set Imoen to such ominously delighted laughter?"

"A sense of humor I cannot even begin to comprehend," Dynaheir muttered as Imoen and Edwin continued to talk in Mulhorandi as if nothing raunchy or horrible had taken place.

"Sense of humor? Edwin's or the darthiir's?" Viconia drawled bitterly, taking a seat beside Dynaheir as Edwin and Imoen bickered over something involving languages. "Ugh, why do they insist on prattling in that eastern tongue?"

"Dyn-dyn," Imoen complained suddenly in Thorasta, "the mean, mean, _meeeaannn_ Thayvian keeps riding me about being unable to roll my Rs, but I can't do it! I don't... where does the tongue even go in your mouth!?"

Dynaheir laughed. "Just because one can _do_ does not mean that one canteach," she told them slyly. "And I am not exactly sure that of thy three options that thou hast selected the best teacher."

"But she admits indirectly that I am the best mage; joy," the Thayvian purred. "I think I shall content myself with that for the hour; it is good to be recognized for what one is."

"Well if thou needeth _my_ approval to be content, I do feel sorry for thee Edwin," Dynaheir laughed, offering food to Viconia (who was glaring at Xan as if she were imagining him with his skin flayed off) and Branwen. "Imoen, in order to roll your Rs, I recommend opening your mouth and lifting your tongue as if you were about to press it to the roof to say an 'L.' Leave a little bit of a gap, however. Then let out air as if you were going to speak an 'H' and press your tongue into the roof of your mouth. With practice, this should help. If not, we can try to come up with another approach."

Imoen tried. The sounds she made caused Edwin to groan and snicker at her, though they were still better than anything she'd made previously. Unfortunately, the Red Wizard was making her laugh and curse at him, which was not helping her progress. At last she gave up and went to scribing the spell. When Dynaheir leaned over to look, Edwin sneered and Imoen horded the spell jealously to herself. "My magic!" the thief announced to Dynaheir and Xan both. "My sparklies! Go find your own!"

"Imoen!" Dynaheir scolded reproachfully, surprised with this treatment. "Thou are letting the lecherous Red monster look."

Edwin leaned forward while moving to set his spellbook and scrolls to the side. A scowl dripped across his face, and he considered where to best begin his assault. He had anticipated more than one grapple attempt from Dynaheir, but for her to come out to where he and Imoen were studying, throw down this picnic, offer them food, and _then_ try to dominate the situation was witch must have seen he was ready to defend his territory, because she turned a challenging and disapproving gaze to him.

Edwin opened his mouth to begin thrashing her but, as it turned out, he was about to be treated to a surprise. Rather than showing hesitation, shame, or discomfort, Imoen responded to Dynaheir's protests firmly. "_Edwin_ is my teacher!" the thief reminded her. "So he can look and you can't! Nyah!" She stuck out her tongue.

Dynaheir was startled, and she wasn't the only one. Even Edwin glanced at her. "But there are two wizards over here who are much less inclined to insult thine intelligence, and whom care for thee and wish only to-!"

"Hiss!" Imoen protested. "If you cannot leave me alone with my sparklies, I will go back to practicing the bow!"

Edwin took in a slow breath and then turned a smug expression on Dynaheir. "Are you done harassing my Monkey about her sparklies?" the Red Wizard chastised his adversary, loving every moment of this bizarre reversal. "You are making quite a habit of this, you know. I am not even sure she will let you teach her divination as this rate."

"No!" Dynaheir protested. "I- I only- I-" She frowned, confused, and then looked to Xan and the clerics, who looked equally baffled about why anyone would prefer talking to someone as whiny, domineering, and annoying as Edwin Odesseiron when they had a choice in the matter. "I apologize, Imoen... Perhaps we should talk about something else."

Imoen considered this. "Well the food you made was good."

"Thank you,"Dynaheir replied, sad it didn't seem they could bond on magic, but grateful that Imoen was demonstrating a willingness to converse with her. They would simply have to find something else to talk about then. Food, perhaps? That certainly seemed to be one of Imoen's interests, and it was one few of the other party members truly shared.

"Hnh, we bake out here with no shelter from this damnable sky other than the branches of a tree," Viconia growled, shielding her eyes and looking upward. "How you surfacers can stand such heat is beyond me; much less lie around pointlessly in it chattering instead of doing useful work!"

"She's gone cold on us again," Branwen teased. "We should braid her hair in the meanwhile."

"What? _No__. _I forbid it, lest I wind up looking like that wretched darthiir you're both protecting."

"Maybe we should give her a back massage," Branwen laughed. "Viccy, we told you not to-"

"You slept in his _bed_!" Viconia exclaimed. "What was I supposed to think? You do find him handsome, do you not? What part was I wrong about?!"

"Do I need to leave this conversation before I have an ulcer?" Xan said meekly into his wrap.

Viconia scowled. "You _bore_ me, darthiir, are you really so melodramatic?"

"Why Viconia, Night Flower, are you jealous of the attention?" Edwin asked, because although he had no affection for Xan he could not help but take a pass at the drow. He was in too good a mood. "Because if that is the case, he is not the only man who would be willing to share his bed..."

"Ugh. Fine, fine," she muttered to Dynaheir. "I shall leave off the topic if it will keep _that _fool from talking. And you may braid my hairif you must. There doesn't seem to be anything more relevant for us to do, anyway, and perhaps it shall keep the heat at bay..."

Imoen eyed both other wizards suspiciously and then slooowwwlly settled her paper back down again and resumed scribbling. Edwin leaned over her to have a look, now more interested- or at least enjoying Dynaheir's reaction to his interest- in what Imoen was transcribing than he had been previously. He tilted his head to the side.

Imoen was not writing the spell from start to finish, but rather placing in one character at a time at certain nodes along tit's shape. Her choices caused the spell to unfold aesthetically over the page in a form that could easily be considered beautiful. Her hesitation when placing the characters suggested she did not see the finished picture in her mind. Perhaps however she '_saw'_ it in her head, it was not exactly two-dimensional.

Soon she was relaxed again, laying with her belly over the corner of the picnic blanket, her feet kicked in the air as she worked, one hand curling the edge of the parchment so only she and Edwin could see. She looked up at him at one point, hesitant about placing a character. He traced out the necessary symbol with a finger. She filled it in.

For a very short while, their little spellcaster family managed to enjoy itself. They slung their insults and jokes, and tended to one another. By the end even Viconia seemed mollified.

* * *

When the rangers entered the bar at the end of a very long day, the first thing anyone could note about them was that they seemed to have returned with one more head than they set out with.

"We're alive!" Aegis called, coming up to the bar where some of her party members were currently drinking. Xan looked up and she tossed one of the newly retrieved scrolls to him. He caught it, smiling at the parchment.

"You made excellent time," he told her as Branwen reached out to pat her back and Viconia rolled her eyes.

"New sneaky, deadly tree-friend saved us in an ambush!" Minsc boomed.

[Ale, wine, or mead?] Aegis asked over her shoudler. Xan jumped at the sound of elvish and then turned about. Standing a little uncomfortably some distance away from them was a cloaked figure in heavily camouflaged leathers. He did not look at ease in a city; much less in a tavern or before so many people. The sound of elvish seemed to produce an effect on him just as it had on Xan, however, for he did answer:

[Ale.]

Aegis paid for two mugs and found herself a stool, but before she could wave Kivan over, Xan stood up in surprise. _"Quendë nát?"_ A small smile graced his face, and he swiftly delivered a warm greeting. "_Nát alatulya síssë! A tulë, matë, ar sucë. Órenya linda tye-omentien!"_

Viconia made a face at what what, to her, unintelligible, bell-like, fluttering noises, and Branwen turned about to have a look. Kivan was certainly surprised by the sudden attention, but after a moment's hesitation he stepped forward and lifted a hand to push his hood back entirely that he might greet the other elf just as warmly in turn. It had been a little too long since either of them had seen another of the fair folk. Half-elves, apparently, did not quite count.

"This is Kivan," Aegis told the group. "He's hunting bandits and Tazok in specific, and he's agreed to help us if we assault the bandit camp."

"Well it's good to see all elves aren't delicate flowers," Branwen observed with a laugh, standing up to greet their new arrival. Kivan was considerably taller and heavier than Xan, and in fact could have easily been described as hardy-looking by comparison. He was easily as tall Edwin, though as an elf he was still dwarfed by Aegis and Minsc and stood an inch or two shorter than Branwen.

Viconia noticed irritably that it did not look like the elves even shared an ethnicity yet they had greeted one another like old friends. Kivan's complexion was swarthy and brown against Xan's icy pallor, and the ranger's hair was a veritable mane while Xan's was perfectly straight. Kivan was most likely a 'wild elf,' she realized, and Xan a 'moon elf.' They could not have looked more different from one another; except, apparently, if one had possessed black skin and white hair! She could not help but feel angry all of a sudden, even if they had all once been no more than 'surfacers' to her. How could rivvin ostracize her when they welcomed so many? Was she really so different from them, so much more different than they were from one another?

_Perhaps so._

It was not her most pleasant thought, given as she obviously could not return to where it was she 'belonged.' It begged the question of whether she could ever now belong anywhere.

"Well met!" the Norheimer was saying. "I'm Branwen, cleric of Tempus. This is Xan: enchanter, moonblade wielder, and the most depressing person in the world."

Xan jumped and pouted at her. "Branwen, we delude ourselves to think our pitiable band could stand up to a bandit camp. It is hardly a crime to point out when our ill choices and _laughable_ odds ensure that some venture or another will inevitably lead to _catastrophic_-"

"Basically we're all _doomed_," the Islander told Kivan with a wink. Xan gave her an irritable sneer. Branwen noticed, kissed one of her fingers, and tapped the enchanter on the nose with it. He wrinkled the assaulted part of himself, and then sighed. Aegis waved them back over to the bar.

"Let the poor man sit, drink, and eat!" Aegis protested. "We've had a long hike!" Branwen laughed and did so, asking Kivan whether or not he ate meat. The answer was an affirmative. Seeing that he'd been well-recieved, she looked back at Viconia. "Did anyone kill anyone while I was gone, by the way?"

"If only," the disguised drow sighed. "I think that repulsive dwarf and the paladin might have been arguing, but since no one witnessed anything more than Ajantis storming off and the dwarf stomping off to his store to grab some provisions, it's hard to say."

Aegis hesitated. "Did either come back?"

Viconia waved a hand. "Ajantis is out spending his anger on trees and practice dummies. I think Helm is teaching him temperance," she observed wryly. "It might even be working. Kagain is at Feldepost's."

* * *

Ale did not correlate to an improvement in Kivan's mood, and Aegis took note of this. It darkened him to some degree. But with a very enthusiastic and surprisingly friendly Xan at his side, he seemed to loosen up a little. Imoen and Dynaheir had apparently been spending the evening baking lemon tarts, because they came out of the kitchen carrying trays of them. Aegis nearly dived across the room to gather up two or three. Imoen-baked lemon tarts were a covetable commodity.

As Imoen passed around the tarts, Aegis took stock of her party. "Where's Edwin?" she asked past mouthfuls of lemon pastry. Imoen rolled her eyes.

"The brothel," the thief explained irritably. "What the- where did _this_ come from?" she gestured at Kivan.

Aegis paused. "Beregost has a brothel?"

"Ah, the innocence of youth," Imoen sighed dramatically as Kivan turned about to have a look at what all this excitement was about. "Oh my _goodness_ he is cute!"

Xan face-palmed. Kivan was quiet for a moment before simply saying a firm and prohibitory: "No."

"Immy, this is Kivan," Aegis explained. "He's the ranger the innkeep mentioned and he'll help us with the bandit camp. He'll still on the fence over Mutamin's basilisks and the rest of our money-earning.

"Well of _course_ you should come with us!" Imoen explained. "We do everything we set out to do! Plus between you and me, we need another archer. I'm the only one here who can handle a bow worth beans. You don't want to see Aegis try, trust me! It's _sad_. Do you have any idea how much pressure it is to try and snipe off priority targets for a group this size?"

Kivan blinked at her a moment. Then he grunted and turned back to his ale.

Imoen looked at Aegis to see if she'd done something wrong. The ranger woman just grinned; Kivan was already growing on her, but she'd come to the conclusion that he never spoke a single word without cause. "Not everyone can be as, ah, _verbose _as you and Edwin, Immy.

"True, true. Well I'm covered in lemon filling," Imoen giggled. "Dyn-dyn and I got in a food fight! Imma hop upstairs and change my tunic really quickly, kay?"

"At least it wasn't a feces war again," Viconia sneered. She was holding her emptied cup upside down and watching somethign on the table. Abruptly she slammed the cup down with enough force to startle Branwen. A grin spread over her face and she placed both hands on the cup, murmuring prayers to her god. She murmured one prayer, then another, then a third, until Xan had also glanced her way.

With a large grin on her face, Viconia pressed the cup across the table, past Branwen, until it came to rest in front of Xan. She left it there and retracted her hand. "This is for you," she told the enchanter in her most sensuous purr.

Xan tilted his head head to the side. Then he jumped slightly when the cup began to quiver and rock. There was a moment of stillness and then abruptly the mug went tumbling to the ground as an enormous, grotesquely swollen wolf spider skittered towards him, four inches across in diameter.

* * *

_"So..." Tallix drawled. "Have ya?"_

_Gorion grimaced. "I cannot believe you believe this is acceptable conversation," he murmured. "We are about to launch an assault on a bastion of great evil. This task involves us dealing with demonic god-children in an almost unforgivable way just to rescue their souls from oblivion. And you are standing here, asking me about... no I dare not say it; damn yourself by the utterance."_

_Tallix blew out a smoke ring. "Kid, you gotta get laid," she told him with a smirk. "Yer developing a severe case o' stick up the ass."_

_Involuntarily, Gorion thought of the last time he had been in a Bhaalite sanctuary; of the ominous skeletal figure with its curvaceous bone scythe and clawed ebon figures. He remembered it clawing into his flesh, rending him, healing him, and then rending him again. It had played with him in a curious and detached way, as a cat toyed with a mouse, except in that it had..._

_ The mage's fingers drifted involuntarily to Chai and he took a long, slow breath. Was he even ready to be with someone? He still woke up screaming most nights. That experience with the Slayer had frazzled his soul on all ends. It had made him... well Jaheira said it had made him 'touchy.' Gorion felt it would have been more accurate to say that it had made him adverse to touch. Particularly Jaheira's, even though that was not exactly fair. _

_"Where are you from, Tallix?" Gorion asked as conversationally as he could. They were waiting on Lullorin to finish her preparations, and perhaps a safer line of conversation would help pass the time._

_"Moonsea," Tallix said dismissively._

_"Are you from a big family?" Best not to ask too much about whereabouts Moonsea. A woman like Tallix reeked of something Zhentish, and though he was sure she would not be working with Lullorin if that was_ currently the_ case, he still didn't want to hear about the halfling's past exploits lest he find some reason to hate her for them. _

_"Seven brothers and seven sisters!" she agreed with a laugh. "Damn ungrateful little wankers, all of em, I tell ye. Though come to think of it I think we lost one or two over the last few years. Pity that. Family's family, ye know? Ye love em even as ye hate em." _

_Well... that was debatable. Gorion had never been particularly fond of a certain Justicar who seemed intent on commandeering his life every few years or so. Numerous attempts to disown all blood connection to the woman had fallen on deaf ears. _

_"Any children?" Gorion ventured to ask. Tallix only laughed. "Nieces and nephews then?"_

_"Aye, two of me sisters and one of me brothers. Least I think so. I don't visit home much, and they don't take me hints not to get mixed up with the Zhentarim."_

_Well, there went his attempt to steer away from the topic. "Are you some form of outcast or traitor then?" he inquired._

_"Nae, I'm Zhentarim through-and-through ye silver-headed cutie! Don't mean I think it's the wisest thing, but now I'm stuck with it sure thing. The tithes they take, ridiculous." __Gorion slowly looked down at her. Tallix laughed at his expression. "Wae? Ye want summat? Want to magic missile me pretty little head in?" she giggled. "Listen ta me laddie: Some bridges ye don't burn lest yet want troubles bigger'n you are. Ye let em lie, keep yer head down when they come a-callin,' use em as ye need em, and just take care not to let any news pass over em the wrong way. Catch me drift?"_

_"Does Lullorin know what you are?" he asked her in a low voice._

_"Course she does. She needed someone who had the right contacts to find these places. So she reached right into the dragon's mouth so ta speak."_

_"I see. So this explains why you have no revulsion towards the task ahead of us," the Harper growled._

_"Tis a wonder ye''ve lived as long as ye have. Mask, that hurts it does. Ya think me a baby killer? Tallix Snapdragon's a thief, yer royal iciness; not an assassin. And even if I were... everyone draws their line somewhere. Lullorin says the knife ye'll be usin' will be enchanted. Just a prick, and poof! Done. Nae a whit o' pain. That true?"_

_Gorion was quiet a long moment. Then he closed his eyes. "I certainly pray so," he confessed. _

_He was surprised when the halfling came up and gave his arm a pat. "Clear yer head kid. Too many doubts in there now for what ye've already put yer mind to. Don't want ye ta die ta a Deathstalker halfway down through this crawl now do we?"_

_"I still cannot help but wish there was another way."_

_"Well, mayhaps we could befriend them all and go for tea?" __Gorion looked to her. Tallix shrugged helplessly._

* * *

I have a sneaking suspicion Tallix may be one of those 'older sisters' mentioned by a certain halfling we're all still very angry at...


	20. Interruptions

Blue: I'm glad you like the bit characters XD. They don't necessarily have long, but they shall each be important and I hope they are spicy! Kivan and Viconia are going to be a subject of interest for me, given they are one of the big pairs that try to kill each other- or, well, more accurately, Viconia's hot/cold dynamic tragically and inevitably provokes Kivan into trying to kill her XD. And one must remember that fighting pairs was what inspired this fic!

... Oh my God Kivan, am I going to kill you with Aegis? D: OH please, no. NOooooooooOOoooooo! Unclean! Unclean! Xzar, quickly, absorb the negative energy! Rescue me from this idea!

Blue + Murder: My reviewers' interest in Dynaheir has caused me to take a second look at her character to make sure I don't ignore her. I already know a big scene will come up in Ulcaster and I'm trying to approach it carefully! Dynaheir being a decent person and Edwin being totally impervious to decently; par for the course XD. You guys are probably both right; Baldur's Gate is already so filled with triggers that this story hardly adds to them. Although if we have to get any more insight into Edwin's private life, we all might just die from facepalm-to-death.

Murder: Surely there is a reason Xan Branwen end up both in the tutorial in BG2! ;) I am not _exactly_ certain they are having anything more than an adorably cute friendship, but heck sometimes that's all one needs!

* * *

Interruptions

* * *

The spider hissed up at Xan excitedly and the enchanter's eyes widened. Before anyone else could react, there was a long six-inch skinning knife pinning the creature to the table. Xan turned a shade of green, Branwen spouted a curse, Aegis settled down her ale, and Kivan glared down the length of his knife and then turned a slow frown on Viconia. The drow was laughing up a storm.

"I'm..." Xan whimpered. "I'm going to..."

Branwen lunged out of her chair, grabbing hold of Xan as he swooned backward. Kivan shifted as if to help, and then sat back up when he saw she had things under control. Viconia laughed even harder. Aegis moaned. "You two," their leader muttered," have you been fighting all day?"

"Is that your idea of a joke?" Kivan demanded of Viconia in a low voice.

"I d-deserved th-that..." Xan mumbled.

"Yes!" Viconia announced. "Yes, you deserved that, you piss-poor excuse for a male! That and so much more! Ha! But that!_ That_ will content me for now! Ah, Kivan, _Kivan_, you glower so," she chuckled at the wild elf, "but I have no unjustified quarrel with our flimsy wizard! This morning he cast his enchantments upon me and subjected me to gross indignity!"

Kivan looked to Xan, who moaned. "I covered her in poo," he admitted. It was true that Viconia had deserved her comeuppance, but perhaps if she was limiting her counter assault to _this_ form of prank, then he ought to permit her the satisfaction of it.

"Oi, ease off Viccy!" Branwen growled, easing Xan back into his seat and rubbing a hand over his shoulder and hair to revitalize him. Viconia grinned brightly.

"We have but one rule as I remember it!" the drow laughed. " 'No infighting!' Well then, I think this was positively bloodless! Even if it had bitten him no doubt I'd be the one purging the poison."

"I've no time to suffer fools," Kivan muttered.

"Well then by all means let us get it out of our systems while we are at rest," Viconia laughed. "We fare surprisingly well on the battlefield for having so many mortal enemies lumped together in one party. Wouldn't you say so, enchanter?"

Xan grimaced. "Yes. How we've fared so well remains a mystery to this day. Excuse me. I need to go... to the privy to vomit or... or something."

"Over a spider?!" Viconia was incredulous. Then she started laughing again. "You poor, poor, _fragile_ creature. You absolutely cannot take what you dish out!"

"Oh boy," Branwen muttered, following Xan. "I'll hold your hair."

"Thank you, _Nildoen-nin_, I am much obliged..." Xan gagged, hurrying along. As he and Branwen made for the indoor latrine, a group of well-armed individuals who may well have been adventurers entered the building. They might have gone ignored for the moment had not the enchanter's acute hearing picked up on the barest of whispers.

"That's them," the one on the left whispered. "Cyric, they have the _elf_!"

Xan froze in place, grasping the hilt of his moonblade. Branwen blinked at him.

"Inside?! Use the heartseekers," another whispered, "he'll never be able to dodge a crossfire without his damn trees!"

The enchanter spun to see the newcomers had hoisted bows and were nocking their arrows straight at the bar. A few faces around the tavern had noticed them, but the sight of armed persons mid-assault in a place of safety and revelry was so startling that no one was moving. Up at the bar, Kivan was too far to hear anything more than a brief lull in conversation near the entryway. It was enough. He lowered his ale, turning his head to see what was amiss.

He caught sight of a blue arcane blur as Xan darted low across the front of the ambush party, drawing his moonblade against the hafts of their wall of bows.

"DOWN!" the elf ranger demanded, slipping out of his stool. The party had a fraction of a second to react and then arrows were flying wide all all over the bar, curving to try and hit their targets under the affects of a heartseeker enchantment. Aegis hoisted her shield, taking no less than three arrows ad Viconia took a broadhead to the shoulder as she threw up a spell of divine armor.

"TEMPUS!" Branwen slammed unarmored into the assassins with all the fury of her _Divine Favor_, holding a glowing blue malus in both hands. The bandits had been taken by surprise, but Xan had only damaged a bow or two beyond usefulness. Most of them nocked fresh arrows while two spun to face him with swords. He had only the flimsiest of protections raised; there hadn't been time to do more if he'd wanted to save his party.

"Pull them off Xan!" Aegis shouted, charging forward after an arrow-sprinkled Minsc. Within seconds they were being accompanied by a quarter-tavern full of off-duty Flaming Fist soldiers, caravan guards, mercenaries, and wanna-be adventurers.

Xan parried the first longsword, dancing backwards. Another hit glanced off his magical protections as if he were wearing armor. Branwen's Malus sent weapons flying. Kivan took out one archer, then another. Then a bandit sword came away fresh with blood, and the party enchanter collapsed to the ground. Viconia reached him first, breaking a man's skull with her mace and then standing over Xan's form. Minsc bull-rushed the second assassin off of her.

* * *

The enchanter writhed shakily, looking down to find his hands and robes covered in blood. "My wounds are too grave. I am a _dead man_."

"Xan!?" Branwen called out as she hammered away at an assassin. Aegis leaped into battle beside her, cleaving the man's head from his shoulders with a beautiful spin of her axe.

"He is just being melodramatic again!" Viconia retorted, dropping to her knees beside the enchanter and swiftly praying over his wounds. As callous as her words might have been, Xan had taken a full-body slash across the waist, and there was blood on his lips.

"S-save... y-yourselves-"

Viconia rolled her eyes at such dramatics. Kivan pinioned a fleeing bowman to the wall with arrows, striding up beside the disguised drow and Xan to offer them cover. He looked grim and, Viconia thought, nervous at being caught in such a confined space. He need not have worried; Aegis was clearly having an 'allergic reaction' and her axe was a mean force to contend with in such a confined space. It was even more terrifying than Minsc's greatsword as she hacked and chopped and sent meat, blood, and limbs flying.

"Tell... B-brawnen... th-that... I-I..."

Viconia contemplated letting Xan finish that sentence, but with how fragile the elf was, she had little doubt the enchanter could somehow successfully die just prior to the very last word, and then she would be to blame. She finished her prayer, seizing at him and causing the lacerations across his stomach and thigh to seal closed.

Although initially the party had been outnumbered, the failed ambush attempt and the help of the tavern had almost immediately swung the odds dramatically in Aegis' favor. Within two minutes the most dangerous threat to life and limb was a still-berserk Minsc. He had Aegis holding on to one of his arms and a Flaming Fist soldier and three other men attached to the other as they tried to keep him from lifting up his two-hander and doing any more damage to the surrounding tavern (or the people in it).

Across the room, Kivan and Officer Vai were glaring ruthlessly down at the sole surviving assassin. He was grinning up at them with a black eye, busted teeth,a nd two arrows protruding from his hauberk. He had been incredibly lucky that Kivan was the only ranger to have set upon him, or he would currently be missing an arm or leg.

"Black Talon," Kivan spat. "How did you find me?"

"Wasn't you we marked," the elite bandit chuckled. "You was a bonus..." Kivan frowned, glancing darkly back at Aegis before looking uncertainly down at the bandit. Her credentials were mounting. "We was more clever than the gobbies... split up to clean off each limb 'case we missed the head..." Aegis stiffened, looking at the man. The Black Talon grinned. "You'll be a few boys short come mornin'."

"Ajantis and Kagain!" Aegis exclaimed. "Viconia, do you know where to find-!?"

Suddenly there were shouts and a great commotion upstairs. "Fiesty One!" Minsc exclaimed. Aegis released him and joined him in a full-blown sprint for the second floor, and he bowled over men in droves to get there. An explosive boom rocked the inn.

"Rescue the others!" Aegis called behind her, dashing up the stairs behind Minsc.

Viconia hoisted Xan to his feet as Branwen hurried up to them. "We need ta get ta Ajantis in particular!" the Norheimer explained.

"I saw him earlier!" Viconia told her. "The two of you find the dwarf. Wild Elf!" Kivan paused at the bottom of the stairwell, looking back at her. "Our paladin is out alone, but I know where to find him. I will need your instincts if we are not to be slaughtered on the way!"

Kivan sneered, but then nodded at Xan's pleading expression. The four of them hurried out the door, with Xan casting his defensive magics upon himself and Branwen and Viconia doing likewise. Kivan was the only one of them wearing armor, but it would have to do.

Upstairs, another boom sounded and a blackened and arrow-filled Black Talon collapsed backwards onto the stairs. As Minsc reached the top floor, he found Dynaheir and Imoen pinned down at the far end of the inn hall. The Wychlaran was chanting and Imoen was nocking an arrow.

One assassin was rushing towards them but another, a wizard, was standing only a few feet away from the staircase and he was humming with _Protection_ spells warding off fire and lightening. Neither of these two things assisted him with the shriek of "EEEEVVVILLL!" that came rushing at him from behind. Minsc's claymore wasn't the easiest weapon to use indoors, but with one great chop he had cleaved the man shoulder to naval. The sheer force of the hit drove the wizard to his knees, and then the man flopped open into two ridiculous gruesome halves.

Imoen put an arrow into the oncoming bandit, and Dynaheir directed her flurry of magic missiles his way, but shrugged off the blows and kept coming at them. He either hadn't noticed what Minsc had done to his companion or else he was ridiculously confident in his ability to finish off his marks and get out the window. Either way, Dynaheir stumbled backwards but Imoen advanced. She called on the transformation powers of her bowstaff, swatted the man's stab wide, clocked him in the jaw, slammed the butt in the sternum, and was all-in-all _quite_ satisfied with herself when Minsc ran him through and left his corpse pinned to the in wall.

"Imoen!" Aegis exclaimed.

"We're fine!" the thief called with a grin, hurrying up to join her sister as Minsc examined his witch for damage. "What the heck was this?"

"Assassins! And the one we caught says they've sent men after each of us!"

The joyful, indolent expression vanished from Imoen's face. "Edwin," she realized. She looked around and then bolted past her sister and simply vaulted out the second-story window.

"Imm-!" Aegis exclaimed. "Wait, wait for- holy _shit_ she is getting too good at this!"

Aegis honestly did follow Imoen out of the window because it was the only way she might even possibly catch her. She was almost as graceful as Imoen, but by the time she hit the ground there was nothing of the pink thief to be seen or even heard.

"IMOEN!"

Oghma damn that girl!

* * *

The bandits were laughing. They'd formed a loose ring around the paladin and were grinning down at him as he struggled to keep his balance. Ajantis was improperly armored for such an ambush. Without his full plate or a ranged weapon, they had kited him between one another, darting close to get his focus and then flitting backwards out of reach.

Although he'd cleaved the first assasin's chest open sternum to groin, and the man's body was bleeding out on the grass, Ajantis now sported no less than six arrows jutting out from his shoulders and back. He grimaced to himself, clutching at his ribs and then wiping blood from his face. He grabbed tight hold of his sword hilt in both hands, preparing himself for another lunge.

"Looks like the knight's getting tired!" one of them laughed. "We should just finish him off now, ain't no more fun!"

"The hemlock in his system's about to drop him," another chuckled. "Be patient; don't approach a wounded animal till you're sure you can finish it."

"Nah, let's do this the smart way," another grinned, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow straight at the paladin's face. "You heard the commotion at the inn. We need ta split in case the hits didn't go so well. We'll just have to get ready to take that second pass at them come midnight."

Ajantis' eyes widened. The others? They were in danger? Curse him for a fool! He should not have stalked off alone!

"Say g'night, Amnite knight!" the bandit cackled in pun.

Ajantis braced himself to try and lunge out of the way. Then he looked around, frowning. The darkness coiled, writhed, flickered. Then tendrils of night air suddenly spun up before him, black and malevolant. They twisted into the shape of an enormous skeletal giant, which shrieked to wake the dead. Spooked and horrified, the bandits stumbled backwards, and his would-be-executioner loosed his arrow wide.

"Nightsinger beckons!" the paladin heard_ his_ Shar cleric bellow, just before green-feathered arrows shot out of the darkness.

* * *

"I'm sorry. We don't keep many hands for lady guests, but if you're willing to wait-"

"Did a man in red robes come in here?" Imoen demanded.

"I'm sorry, but we hold our clients in _strictest_ confidence," the madame sniffed at her. "Even for wives, guards, maids or... whatever it is you are-"

Imoen slammed a handful of gold on the table. This was not the time to play coy to get what she wanted. "Which. Room."

The woman frowned, eyeing her burly half-hobgoblin bouncer. He was plenty capable of keeping this girl from reaching the back rooms. "Sixteen," the madame told her. "But you can't just-" The bouncer did try to stop the pink thief, bless his heart, but she was past him like a shadow before he could so much as reach out for her.

For anyone else, walking in on a party member with a whore, even intentionally, would have been a humiliating if not horrifying experience. But if Imoen had so much as considered the awkward impropriety of her course of action, she didn't show it one whit. Taking the situation in stride, Imoen threw the door open and barged in without so much as a knock. "Get up! Move!" she shouted.

She most _certainly_ walked in on the Red Wizard with a whore. The Thayvian was reclined lazily up against the pillows, an arm curled comfortably behind his head and the other hand resting loosely on the half-elf woman's hip as she rode him. True to form, the wizard clearly had no intention of actually working for his sexual satisfaction. He was content to be serviced, and most likely had even been undressed by his rental.

His expression of entitled contentment twisted instantly into one of shock and indignation as Imoen simply tramped in. The prostitute shouted at her in angry surprise.

"Edwin! Move! Emergency!" Imoen demanded without a shred of modest decency in the world. Shaking with rage, the Thayvian threw the whore off of himself and struggled to rise.

{What in the NINE HELLS is WRONG with you!?} he bellowed, snatching up a blanket to cover his nakedness and stumbling to his feet. Her coming up to him while he'd been bathing had been bad enough, but _this_! This was almost _incomprehensible! _

He was so angry that Imoen could see licks of fire coiling up his dominant hand as he summoned forth his _Burning Hands_ spell without so much as a word of draconic. "Shut up! It's assasins!" Imoen told him.

{You fucking, execrable, Mephistophelian, entitled little WHORE!,} he advanced on her. Imoen heard motion and looked past his shoulder to see that the bedroom window was open and apparently facing a tree. Her eyes widened and she tackled her enraged roommate just as an streak of lightning crackled into place inches above their heads. The prostitute screamed and scrambled to get under the bed.

When they hit the ground, all indignant bickering was gone. Edwin whirled onto his side, shouting words for magical protection spells as Imoen scrambled to stand. "Last one had an _Invulnerability _sphere!" she exclaimed, grabbing her Red Wizard's arm and hauling him to his feet. "Make sure you use-!" Another thread of lightning appeared, and Edwin grabbed hold of Imoen as it snaked around him and ruptured violently into a blindingly hot lightning bolt. It missed the thief by inches. Then he twisted to face their assailants.

Imoen seized her companion's shoulder, dragging him backwards out of the room as two assassins followed the lightning bolt through he window. Edwin hurled a fireball back the way they'd came and kicked the door shut behind it. Masculine screams came muffled through the wood as heat wafted out through the seams of the door.

Thief and mage paused momentarily on the opposite side to listen, as Imoen seized up the blanket Edwin was holding and tied it quickly off around his shoulder and chest to form at least a decent drape. From the whimpers and sniffles on the other side, Imoen gathered the whore had at least been safe hiding under the bed. Thank goodness!

A moment passed. Then they heard a shriek of surprise followed by another man's chanting. Imoen grabbed her Red Wizard's hand, dragging him down the hall. "Move!" she hissed at Edwin as he began chanting for another protection spell. She spun about and then lifted her voice when she realized the hall had filled with curious and offended persons. "Killers in the building!" she boomed, scaring and startling sex workers and clients alike, "Everyone, take cover! Take cover!"

Edwin jerked her to a stop, twirled her about, and chanted rapidly over her. She felt a warming sensation just an instant before the bedroom door was flung open and a (presumably) invisible mage darted out. The lack of any visual stimulus coupled with the sound of footsteps made her eyes widen in alarm, and she chanted rapidly for a _Glitterdust_ knowing that Edwin was a conjurer and lacked for almost any spell to reveal an invisible assailant. She heard her wizard's draconic spellcrafting, although she couldn't possibly concentrate on her own casting and try to figure out what he was chanting at the same time. Then she saw the hot bead of an incoming fireball and she and Edwin both had been engulfed in violently unpleasant heat.

When the fire cleared she found herself singed but not badly harmed. The wizard assassin was sagging back into the doorway, limed in shimmering white dust with a burnt, empowered _Flame Arrow_ cavern gaping open in his chest. "Move," Imoen choked out past ash, grabbing hold of her wizard's hand and tugging him along. Edwin didn't resist, following her out of the building in dead silence so that the two might better listen for attackers. They heard shouts and scrambling noises behind them after a moment, but they didn't stay around to find out if there had been more than three assassins.

He didn't say a word. He didn't thank her. The only reason Imoen knew he was even shaken was because he didn't pull free of her hand.

* * *

Branwen and Xan had just arrived with Kagain in tow a few minutes ago. Though he was singed and slightly injured, the dwarf looked more amused than anything else; he was cleaning blood off of his axe and helmet

When Kivan and Viconia staggered into the inn, they had Ajantis supported between them, one of his arm over each of their shoulders. They were both shorter than him, which made the help slightly awkward, but he was in no condition to have walked there. Viconia had slowed the poison and broken the shafts of the arrows off, but the training grounds had clearly been no place to tend to his wounds. Viconia had a couple scrapes and bruises but looked relatively fine.

Aegis cursed and moved to take Viconia's position at the paladin's shoulder. Viconia hurried up to the innkeeper to rent out a bigger suite, as her companions half-dragged their wounded paladin up the staircase. At the top of the stairs, Viconia and Branwen joined them, opened up the Royal Suite, and they got Ajantis inside and onto the bed.

"I-I'm sorry-" the Helmite was muttering. "I-I should not have g-gone off... a-alone..."

"Everyone's fine," Aegis tried to reassure him, even though she was inwardly panicking about where the hell Imoen was. And Edwin, to be honest. She most certainly felt a quiet sort of guilt that _absolutely no one_ but Imoen had remembered Edwin was also in danger. He was their best spellcaster and for all his prickles he didn't deserve to be forgotten more than anyone else. "Everyone's fine, and thank the gods Viconia knew where to find you. You took a real beating."

"Flesh wounds..." Ajantis mumbled and then moaned when the clerics began attacking him to relieve him of arrowheads.

"Where is Imoen?" Dynaheir exclaimed from the doorway of the room, and Xan blanched when he realized he hadn't seen the thief either.

"She went after Edwin!" Aegis told her.

"Alone!?" the Wychlaran looked as horrified as Aegis felt.

"She vaulted out the damn window!" Aegis snarled in frustration. "I tried to follow, but unfortunately my sexy, two-story, wall-sliding skills are sub-par compared to her, and by the time I got to the ground there wasn't a trace of her!"

"You jumped out a window?" Xan asked, clearing out a swatch of ground. "Does anyone have anything of Imoen's? Hair?"

"Well if Kivan sticks around, I hope to perfect the art of awesome, surprise, berserk tree-leaps down onto the enemy," Aegis replied mock-haughtily, and then grimaced. "Xan will you be able to find her with scrying or something?"

"I pray so," the elf answered as Dynaheir darted out of the room and then returned with Imoen's cloak. Xan took it from her and settled himself down on the ground, murmuring words of draconic to himself. His eyelids fluttered and then rolled up into the back of his head. A few tense moments passed in relative quiet. Ajantis was almost devoid of his senses at this point, and was murmuring weak prayers for guidance to his diety as Kivan helped the two clerics work the broadheads free. Branwen and Viconia began sealing up the last of his wounds, but they had yet to fully purge the poison from his systems.

"She has successfully retrieved Edwin," Xan murmured as he came back to them. "They have magical protections raised; I believe they will be fine. We should make sure there is not an ambush waiting at the doorway for them."

* * *

_Before Lullorin had finished her prayers, Winthrop arrived with the two missing members of their group in tow. Gorion's face lit up in surprise when he recognized one of the two. Walking somewhat ahead of the others and already halfway through a bottle of whisky was one of the world's most bizarre sun elves, Haftyril._

_With a ponytail of bright yellow hair, and fighting in beautifully enchanted black armor with a silver longsword in each hand, Haftyril initially looked like a prancer; a swashbuckling or roguish type; perhaps even bardic. In reality, the elf was a front-line juggernaut. He could easily replace a barbarian or paladin in any party. His fighting style involved using one sword entirely as a form of shield, and he could even strike arrows from the air. Equipped with a belt of fortitude and gauntlets of giant's strength, with arcane magic to bolster his capabilities just previous to battle, Haftyril was utterly ridiculous in terms of his ability to soak and mete out damage._

_[Haftyril, my friend, greetings!] Gorion called._

_The sun elf looked up from his bottle, blinking rapidly. Then a big grin spread over his face. [Rion, my brother! The weather is fair to blow me your way! I cannot believe Khelben didn't mention you!] He hopped up to where Gorion was standing._

_[Nor you! No doubt he meant it a pleasant surprise!] the aasimar laughed, clasping his friend on the shoulder. [How have you been? The last time I saw you was... why it was the dragon, if I remember!]_

_[Ha! That's a story no one believes, do you realize? Here I charged into that cavern with all the fury of the Seldarine behind me, swords held aside, with all the power of the gods in my veins! And I tell that story in a bar and get derisive laughter! It's a curse, I tell you, being short...]_

_Gorion laughed hard. [The look on that brute's scaly face!] Haftyril, as the story truly did go, had bull-rushed a red dragon. The diminutive elf had been a minute fraction of the enormous red monster's size and weight and yet, under the power of his enchantments, he'd hit the bewildered creature with such force he'd knocked the beast clear onto its back. He had then proceeded to eschew his blades and punch the giant monster back and forth across the snout. [He-he had no idea what was happening!]_

_"Rion, this is Harus," Haftyril explained, waving up the other newcomer and nodding to Winthrop. "He is a half-orc druid and delightfully shy. It is quite normal for him to spontaneously turn into a raven mid-conversation and go scouting the terrain from above. Harus, this is an old friend, Gorion, and a powerful mage! Don't ask him about the feathers in his hair. Or his grandmother. He gets so _huffy, don't you Rion?_"_

_"Harus was the one helpin' me scout the land," Tallix explained. "I would get hold o' the leads and then he'd check em out for the most part."_

_"Pleasure to meet you," Gorion greeted curiously. Harus was still tall but relatively scrawny for a half orc; an anxious-looking creature who bowed heavily over his walking staff though he could not have been older than twenty-five. His cloak was fringed in raven feathers. He nodded in response to the greeting. "How did you two become acquainted, then? Some glorious adventure involving punching hapless monsters?"_

_"I won him in a poker match against a bunch of delightful Tiefling girls in Sigil," Haftyril told him. "Which, let me tell you, is a story all in itself! He clearly did not belong there, so he was quite happy when we finally managed to get back to the Prime Material." Haftyril took a sip of the whisky, which Gorion well knew the elf could drink like water. "Also, we're married."_

_Gorion blinked. "What?"_

_"We are married. Very happily," Haftyril told him with a sly grin. "He has a terrible soft spot for flowers. Living ones, mind you; I have to make sure to supply them still firmly affixed to their roots. You would not believe the horrible lecture I received on the subject." Harus turned a funny red shade. Winthrop's dour expression changed to one of baffled surprise. _

_Well _this_ was a story Gorion needed to hear sometime later on. That was, if he could manage to get Haftyril to leave out utterly unnecessary details, and perhaps gag Tallix during the telling. _

_When Lullorin brought forth the dagger, the weight of what he had agreed to do settled in on Gorion once more. All levity abandoned the group and they watched him curiously as he took it into hand. _

_The weapon had once been the holy tool of a high priest of Bhaal. It had been purged of his influence and Lullorin had now consecrated in the name of Lathander. It was so heavily imbued with holy energy that its edge was no longer visible as bone, and instead appeared as a soft band of golden light. Still, it was a weapon. Gorion murmured his own prayers, and then looked up at the first rays of dawn began to crest over the hills._

_"Let's move," he told them._

* * *

Firkraag is still a little miffed about that a good thirty years later, actually.


	21. It was Dark

"Everyone's _safe_," Aegis sighed in relief, closing the door behind her. Edwin and Imoen were still breathing heavily from their sprint to the tavern.

Dynaheir looked up from where she'd been warding the windows, a relieved expression on her face. Then she did a double take. Edwin was in _quite_ a state. The Thayvian was barefoot, disheveled, and wearing nothing more than a stolen blanket. For such a spoiled man of quite some power and nobility, and with plenty more ego than either, this was quite a bizarre manner in which to see him.

The witch's nose crinkled slightly as she realized exactly where he'd been that evening. It was one thing to know he often did this, and quite another to see and _smell_ the evidence. Kagain turned about to take one look at him and then burst out laughing. "Did yas pull him clear off of a wench, kid? Ha!"

Edwin didn't respond to either of them, not even to glare; though Imoen couldn't suppress a grin at Dynaheir's scandalized expression. _Well, out from under one,_ Imoen thought, but she didn't say anything because Dyn-dyn had apparently ignored the memo that Edwin was a complete lecher. Ah well, as long as everyone was safe, what did it really matter anyways?

"How's Ajantis?" the ranger queen asked, coming up beside the bed.

"I will live," the paladin groaned. "Don't worry about me." Branwen nodded to Aegis to confirm that the paladin was indeed going to survive. Viconia had espied Edwin and came up to the man almost curiously. The Thayvian noticed her attention and turned a dark gaze onto her, waiting to see if she would say something.

Shamelessly, while the rest of the group fussed over Ajantis, Viconia reached out to grasp the edge of the Red Wizard's makeshift drape and to curiously ease it open an inch or so under the arm. Her eyes followed the lines of tattoos down the Thayvian's side. He was heavier than she had realized, with thick and sturdy flesh wrapped about his bones. Though not truly athletic in appearance, he had kept fit by virtue of the road.

The swell of the shoulder and bicep muscles were visible, and though wine and meat had left him with a thin padding of fat, it had been layered over a reasonable shapeliness beneath. He was not a fragile man, and the tattoos were delightfully exotic. He was healthy looking, at least, if hardly divine. She didn't pull the blanket any further aside, but just enough was visible to guess at the size of him.

"See something you like, Night Flower?" the Thayvian growled in soft whisper. Dynaheir grimaced and looked away from both of them. Imoen had noticed them but she rolled her eyes and said nothing.

"Mmm," Viconia mused. "How badly do you want to be gagged?" the dark elf teased, releasing the drape. When the Red Wizard did not provide counter banter, she simply grinned at him. "No, no... as much fun as taunting you and dragging it out for an hour or so might be... You're just hunting a quick release, aren't you? And what pleasure is there in that for me?"

Edwin watched her almost without expression. Viconia smirked and continued with a purr: "I think I'll let you suffer through this one, Thayvian." She stepped closer to him, leaning near so she could appreciate the stench of the rivvil and know he in turn would be affected by her closeness. When she spoke next it was in a whisper: "I suppose if you are desperate, you can finally spend some coin on that... 'tavern wench' you room with. Or is the motive behind that arrangement that she do it free of charge?"

Viconia couldn't see his face from this position, or the way his upper lip curled and his brows furrowed together. She had leaned so close that the heat of her breath was directly upon his ear. "I'd use her mouth if I were you, lest she chitter on the whole time."

Edwin turned his mouth to whisper in her delicate ear. "This morning you made a dominance play against a weak, demure, seventy pound elf; and he humiliated you. Do you honestly believe you could win that same game against me? Or is it that you think there is anything between your legs I haven't seen before? You are a fiesty, warm, wet _hole_; Viconia, and that is the limit of your value to anyone. That said, it hardly gives you much power against me."

The dark elf pulled back, frowning curiously at him. Had she gotten the wrong measure of how to tease and manipulate him? Interesting.

* * *

"This is _insane_," Aegis hissed taking in the sight of her party. "These ambushes! Twice in one day?"

"Twice?" Ajantis murmured dazedly.

"We were ambushed by hobgoblins on the way home, and the leader claimed Tazok had a bounty on my head!" Aegis exclaimed in frustration. There was nothing she hated more than an inability to protect her people. She could scarcely believe that everyone had survived this ordeal; and if she thought back she realized it had only worked out so well because she'd been able to trust her group mates and delegate to them.

"You need to get out of town," Kivan told her grimly. "You called their attention and you are easy to find."

"I agree," Dynaheir nodded. "Until we can pierce straight to the heart of their encampment, we need to disappear! Staying in Beregost is too dangerous; it is too easy for someone to watch and ambush us. I was naught but changing my shirt when Imoen came busting into the room, shouting to duck!"

Aegis grimaced. Well, it was good to know Imoen was also developing wizard-preservation allergies. "We aren't ready to take on the bandits. We can try and stick to the wilderness east of the road while we gather funds, but I don't know the land."

"I do," Kivan told her, and as usual he did not use any more words than he had to. "We leave two hours before dawn."

"We need to be barricading ourselves into our rooms, then," Aegis muttered. "Wizards, you've got the spells to secure yourselves?" She received nods. "Alright, that checks off Dyn, Minsc, Xan, Bran, Imm, and Edwin from our list of vulnerable persons."

"Ajantis needs someone to keep an eye on him through the evening if he's going to make a march come morning," Branwen answered. "Xan and I can camp in this room."

"I will also take a turn watching over him," Viconia responded, coming back up beside the bed. Edwin was a fun enough game, but she had clearly lost this round and needed time to decipher the clues. She had no more interest in him at the moment. "Though it would be easier to defend a smaller space than this."

"The rest of us can bunk in here as well, then," Aegis decided. "Xan can have the couch. Kagain?"

"I'm in if yas payin for it'," he told her. "I'm a dwarf, kid; I don't need no cushy bed ta sleep like a baby a'nights. Even if it means campin' with the pansies..."

"Repulsive as the dwarf is, he is clearly competent," Viconia sniffed. "I can endure his stench for one evening."

"Viconia," Xan hesitated, looking at her. "Your disguise won't last the night. If you wake me, I can reapply it."

The dark elf looked at Xan, then Kivan. Then she gave a shrug and dusted her hands off against one another. "I _suppose_ he shall know soon enough anyway," the Shar cleric responded. "Kivan, I am under a glamour."

"Do you take me for a fool?" the Wild Elf asked, eyes narrowing. "I watched you fight, and talk. You are wrong for a human."

Viconia frowned at this but straightened herself proudly. There was no true reason for her to be ashamed. She was born of a noble race, and she had left Lolth far behind her. "Xan, dispel your illusion if you would."

The enchanter grimaced, but he came up to do just that. When he stepped back from her, Viconia's black skin and white hair were both clearly visible. Kivan stiffened, his full and unadulterated attention riveting on her, his mouth pressing into an emotionless expression. "Kivan-" Xan began.

[You shelter this monster?] the wild elf asked of Xan and Aegis both.

Aegis answered much in the way Kivan had asked, with a simple: [Yes.]

Xan tried to explain their reasoning. [Kivan, my friend, she has proven herself stalwart in emergencies. She healed my wounds, and was swift to lead you to the paladin's-]

[I will not lodge with this creature,] the Wild Elf told them in a low and hostile growl. [And I strongly suggest you reconsider her. I will find you at the appointed hour.]

"Kivan," Viconia protested, for although she could not understand elvish she could feel his sudden antipathy. "I am an outcast from my people. I have no quarrel with you or with-"

"Keep away from me Drow," he responded in a voice dead of sympathy or doubt, "else yours will be the next scalp I give to the Fist." Then he turned and was gone.

Viconia stared after him stunned for just an instant. She and Kivan had fought so beautifully together, taking on no less than six elite Black Talon mercenaries in their rescue of Ajantis! The Wild Elf was an absolute _master_ of his craft; a quick and ruthless wolf of the night; and she had appreciated and admired such finesse.

For a moment, Kivan's blatant loathing filled the drow with frustrated dismay. Then her face hardened, because she had grown used to such turnabouts. "Well, that has come to be expected of you stupid surface dwellers," she responded callously and then turned back to take her watch over the paladin.

Xan winced. Viconia's reaction had not been lost on him, nor the bitter shield it had triggered in her defense. Though the sight of her black skin continued to send instinctive prickles of disgust running through his skin, he could not help but feel a whiff of sudden despair. Was it any real wonder Viconia had _no idea_ how to talk to people? Or that she continued to embody dark elf cruelty despite rejecting her own people? On the rare occasions she reached out to people or allowed herself a momentary interest in them, there was no welcome waiting for her on the other end. Certainly there were no minds patient enough to handle her hatred through the in-betweens.

Well, there was Dynaheir, one supposed. The Wychlaran had scarcely left Viconia alone since meeting her, and now she came up and placed a sympathetic hand on the cleric's arm.

Edwin glanced slowly to the partially opened room door when he heard someone clear their throat. Imoen flit over to investigate and then smiled. "_Rek'herok_," the thief called in Mulhorandi, waving Edwin over. The Thayvian joined her side and found their guest to be none other than the tavern laundry woman. She had finished cleaning his robes and shoes, and he took them gratefully into his arms. They smelled fresh, thank Kossuth. Imoen tipped the woman.

{We need to ward the room so I can change,} he told Imoen. The thief nodded, and went with him to barricade their bedroom against entry. Only once the windows and door were thoroughly warded and the former had been tied closed with rope did Imoen step out so her wizard could have a moment of privacy.

Imoen found Aegis waiting for her! Her sister didn't say anything at first, stepping forward to give Imoen a tight hug. "I was worried about you," the ranger woman confessed. "You should have waited for me! I would have helped you."

"Would you believe me that I got there just in the nick of time?" Imoen giggled. "Maybe it wasn't smart of me to leap out a window and all, but it was like I could _feel_ the danger!* Or maybe that's just adrenaline talking. I don't know. Gods, I am _beat_. Ran my legs off, I did, yup!"

Aegis sighed dramatically. "Keep being competent," she instructed wistfully. "Xan and Dynaheir were worried for you. Go reassure em, eh?" Imoen laughed but nodded and went to go do so.

When Edwin cracked the door back open to let Imoen know she could enter, he found Aegis waiting. Sensing an unavoidable conversation, he eased the door open and looked at her tiredly.

"She jumped out the damn second story window to get to you," Aegis told him. "Everyone else was so frantic, we didn't even remember you weren't here."

Edwin seemed to take this into consideration, but said nothing.

"Look... I've not had a single conversation with you about her, and I'm not primed to deliver a lecture. If anything, it looks like you two get along pretty well. And if he could see her studying magic right now, I think my father would kiss you; All Harper/Red Wizard enmity be damned. But some days I just really hope somewhere in that insane, inferno-filled head of yours that you've got managed to reserve even the tiniest corner for other people. I get the impression it's going to make a significant impact on our near future."_  
_

The mage waited to see if that was everything. Then he shook his head and turned and headed back into his room. Aegis frowned after him because she'd never really known Edwin to be silent on any topic whatsoever. Especially not when people were critiquing him or espousing goodliness.

Imoen reappeared a second later to do likewise, and she and Edwin didn't say so much as a word to each other. They'd had a very, very long day.

* * *

It was easily midnight, and Imoen couldn't sleep. By the frequent adjustments and readjustments of rustling blankets she heard from across the room, neither could Edwin, actually. She doubted it was for the same reasons, though.

For her part, her heart was still hammering in her breast, and she felt herself falling into a state of near panic every time she ought to have been drifting off to sleep. It was terrifying to think that the assassins had come for them in their beds, and in a way maybe it reminded her of how Montaron had nearly killed Aegis.

Imoen kept turning thoughts around and around in her head. She thought about her friends; about Dynaheir, her sister and Xan; about Kivan and the look on Viconia's face when he'd stormed out; about Ajantis nearly dying alone out on the training grounds...

Was this going to be the rest of their lives? Were they going to be hunted by assassins forever?

As she listened to her roommate try and fail to find some form of rest, she considered how absolutely last-second her timing had been. If she had hot-footed her way to the brothel even a pace slower, or let the madame delay her a minute longer, or had even a moment's hesitation about barging into that room...

Well. Edwin was a very capable wizard. But he'd been dead silent after she'd pulled him out of the brothel, and he hadn't even insisted they turn about to grab his clothing. Edwin might have been the juggernaut when it came to mass destruction on a battlefield or cunning plans of engagement, but it looked like Imoen was the expert on avoiding ridiculously unpleasant deaths.

That's who she was most worried about, she realized. Her roommate. Maybe that was for the best; it didn't look like he had anyone else to worry about him and she was glad to do the job. But if she had to guess, the reason _Edwin_ couldn't sleep probably had at least something to do with-

"_Kwefai_...?" came a quiet whisper. Perhaps Edwin hoped she was already asleep. No such luck.

Imoen shifted to hear him better. "Yes, Dragon?"

She imagined him grimacing. "Eh... may, m-may I...? Ehm..." He sounded like he'd almost prefer being electrocuted to asking her this.

Imoen smothered a giggle, because she had been wondering if this topic would come up from the moment Edwin first suggested they room together. "Well... if _I_ can? If I want to, that is."

The Thayvian was silent for a moment. "... That... is... That is... _fair_..." he replied awkwardly. This was clearly one of the most uncomfortable conversations he had ever participated in. _  
_

"And we won't listen or say anything, at all, ever?" she suggested.

"Ever." The Red Wizard agreed this was the necessary stipulation.

"Yeah it's fine. Thanks for asking."

He made a sound of appreciation and, thankfully, he was not even remotely vocal after that. Sleep came easier when he'd finished.

* * *

Aegis led. Her change in armor had put an extra spring in her step. Her flexibility had been greatly improved, and if the weight even mildly inconvenienced her she did not show it. Whenever Kivan appeared it was sudden, and the Wild Elf did not speak unless he had to. Often he simply pointed in a direction before vanishing back into the forest. His face was grim and he avoided coming anywhere near Viconia.

For the most part she knew Kivan was obscuring their tracks. Urso and Dynaher's Hawk Ankh made for excellent scouts. She was concerned about her new friend's omnipresent glower, and the weird sensation of a deathly mantle encompassing him had never full abated. On the other hand, she and Minsc had pathfinding to do. They would simply have to find some means of mollifying Kivan later.

The rest of the group was too tired to chatter for many hours. They grouped together in protective sets. Deprived of a wizard, Aegis had Minsc. Branwen kept to Xan's side as was fast becoming natural. Dynaheir and Viconia walked arm in arm. The drow was not disguised and held her chin high with pride. Ajantis followed closely on their flank. He had recovered almost entirely from the poison thanks to the ministrations of his clerics, though sleep itself had eluded him.

Ajantis had been conscious through those long hours in which the Rashemi Wychlaran and the drowess had spoken to each other of their incredibly different homelands. Eavesdropping on them had felt wrong and horrible; but he suspected he would have regretted ruining their bonding moment by warning them that he was awake. He would just have to be quiet about all he had heard.

Behind Ajantis followed two hoods, one red and the other pink, hovering almost protectively close to one another. They were the only ones talking, muttering to each other in their strange eastern tongue and jabbing fingers at some scroll or another.

_"Rrodi ma'aer, Kwefai. Nat'tsha pa __irt _aerreta twon "R" whet'tsha," Edwin insisted.

_"Tam! Inik gomi rodir "H" whet idin djeda medwa,"_ Imoen disagreed playfully.

_"Cherdept khosnni..."_ the Thayvian growled, and clearly he was being insulting.

_"Rek'herok penest,"_ she beamed innocently.

Kagain took up the rear, requiring neither conversation nor company to keep happy, and quite capable of stalling a rear assault on his lonesome.

They passed around a walking breakfast of juice and biscuits about an hour after dawn, and then people began to get a little more talkative. Edwin and Imoen were still arguing, the language barrier effectively shutting anyone but Dynaheir out of that conversation. Branwen and Xan struck up a conversation about the melee combat strategies available for the magically gifted.

Ajantis watched Kivan reappear, growl something to Aegis, and then disappear just as swiftly. The paladin was quiet for a moment before coming up beside Viconia. He knew she must have been as tired as he felt, so he broached the subject in as gentle a tone as he was able: "I did not get an opportunity to thank you properly, Lady DeVir."

Viconia looked startled for a moment. Then she sneered in annoyance up at him. "What do you want, male?" she snapped.

"Just to thank you," he assured her. "I am to understand you were the one who found me."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes: writhing in self-righteous fury at the outrage of being put in your place by a soldier three times your mettle. Smiting out your insecurities on practice dummies."

Dynaheir expected the paladin to glower or take offense, but strangely enough she could see no fight in the young squire at all. Ajantis continued to have an absolutely innocent and even diplomatic expression on his face.

"Well, whatever you call it, I am in your debt," the paladin told her. "Even your use of that shadow magic most likely contributed to saving my life. That bandit had an arrow nocked for my head, and I was moving very slowly by then."

His persistence made Viconia eye him cautiously again. "Yes, well. Remember that the next time you feel compelled to stand by and do nothing, while we fight. It would do us all some good if you'd give in and muck up your pretty white armor in shielding us unclean devils."

Ajantis regarded the diminutive cleric for a moment and then inclined his head in a mute nod. She was his healer, and he would defend her. But he'd prove it with actions rather than words. His 'submission' seemed to trigger a haughty calmness in her, and though it did not result in any kindness or retractions of her invective, he could tell she at least felt better.

When Ajantis kept pace with them and did not lag behind to follow in their wake again, Viconia glanced at him irritably. After a few moments, the dark elf finally turned about to look much farther behind her. "Thayvian," she called. "Do you keep yourself properly sterile?"

Edwin looked up with a blink from the scroll, taking a moment to shift mentally from Mulhorandi to Thorasta. When he was sure he had properly interpreted the query, he rolled his eyes and then fixed her with an amused expression. "Black onyx, I don't believe this Red Wizard has gone a week without ingesting cassil leaves* since he was sixteen years old," he told her flatly, provoking Imoen to fits of laughter and Dynaheir to cringe. " 'Just in case.' "

Viconia gave a slow, sensuous grin and slowly turned back to the path at hand without saying another word. Edwin smirked and looked back to the scroll. Ajantis lifted a brow and glanced over the drow's head at Dynaheir, who shrugged unknowingly. Regardless, he decided not to say anything or to lag behind again, and the group continued to walk.

Imoen elbowed Edwin, {When did you find time to plot to overthrow your masters and sabotage your peers?} she hissed, still laughing.

Edwin shook his head in disbelief, as if the question annoyed him more than anything. {Asks the backwater trollop of the Wizard in Red, when the former spends her evenings in the laps of as many bards as she can find, and the latter really only cares for power...}

Imoen giggled. {Hey, speaking of trollops: I'm glad not to be bawling my eyes out at the Song of the Morning right now, paying Kelddath out the nose for diamond dust. He would probably charge a real premium for a Red Wizard.}

Edwin turned his head slowly and looked down at her without expression for a long moment. Then, without saying anything, he pointed at a word on the scroll he knew she absolutely could not pronounce unambiguously without learning to roll her Rs. Imoen sighed dramatically and made her most pathetic attempt to date.

The Thayvian grimaced at her. He glanced back at Kagain to see the dwarf wasn't paying them a lick of attention and was counting gold in his purse. He looked ahead of them to make sure no one was turned back. Then he gave a mute sigh and eased his pack off his shoulder. When he spoke, it was in his quietest whisper. {If you squeal; if you make a _sound_; if you so much as _touch_ me, I will sell them back,} he said, rummaging within. {In fact, if you tell anyone at _all_, even a _word_...}

{What?} She was confused. {What did you do?}

He pulled out a bundle of pitch-black leathers. Imoen caught them bewildered as he threw them to her. She looked down and plucked at the material, and then her eyes widened in stupefaction.

{H-how...?} she asked in amazement. It was _Shadow Armor _from Thunderhammer Smithy.

{An Odesseiron does not want for gold, child,} he told her angrily. {(At least not before wasting it on ungrateful pink children.) And not all purses can be stolen.}

{You... you got me a _present_?}

He sneered. {I made an investment. Do not make me regret it.} Imoen looked up at him a moment and then down at her new black leathers.

{So. Um. My Rs,} she said after almost an entire minute had passed. {They need to be rolled. I think I should get to work on that.}

{Yes. Yes, see that you do,} the Thayvian growled haughtily, glad this conversation was coming to a close. If he'd had to endure a single comment from anyone else in the party, they would have regretted it. He wasn't one to suffer the scrutiny of fools, and he'd had quite his fill of 'awkward conversations' with or about his infuriatingly chipper apprentice of late. Being spared even _one_ was something of a relief.

Imoen stared at the black leathers, not exactly sure how to feel. This was her second brand new set of armor in as many weeks. Just before his betrayal, Montaron had bought her the very brigandine hauberk she was currently wearing.

* * *

_The assault had been successful. _

_With Halftyril leading the charge and Winthrop on point, there had been little enough opportunity for the Bhaalites to react. Lullorin had sent them forward with blessings and prayers, and Gorion had followed them primarily with spell breaches and spells to reveal, counter, or incapacitate. _

_Not everyone in the complex was a cleric. Many if not most Bhaalites were bounty-hunters, assassins, and other men who made death their trade. Detecting threats and applying invisibility purges was an essential pipeline for their raid, and so it was that Tallix's and Harus' accute hearing were two of their most vital assets. _

_They were stopped once. Not by a man, woman, cleric, or creature. They were stopped by a gigantic swinging axe trap, which Haftyril just narrowly managed to dodge, and a spiked pit trap which he quite simply did not. To be fair, Winthrop had seen both and had _tried_ to warn him._

_It took them about three minutes to pull the elf back out of the pit again. He was not happy about this, and wriggled about irritably while Lullorin applied her healing. Tallix ended up having to lead the rest of the charge._

_But the assault had been successful. The high priest was dead. The clergy had been battled and defeated. The thieves and thugs had been dealt with. _

_It was with great trepidation that Gorion stepped past his resting comrades and made his way into the final chamber of the complex. It was poorly lit within, but most certainly a prison; It was lined with cells on one side, and he felt the malevolence of abyssal taint all around. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom he took in a sharp and painful breath, his heart catching in his throat._

_A dozen pairs of frightened eyes were peering up and out at him._

_Mystra... Mystra and Lathander spare him._

* * *

*Hmm, maybe you should replace 'danger' with 'death' Immy? Naawwwww, that's silly.

*Cassil: Birth control herb used almost exclusively by noble men owed to its pricing and effectiveness. Thay is a slave state which means Edwin likely indulged whenever he wanted to which, given his preoccupation with magic, was actually probably much less frequently than we might give him credit for. Man does like to run his mouth.

Taking Middle Egyptian into Faerun to form Mulhorandi is fun and way too much work :3. I spend hours fiddling with the sounds till I like them. Middle Egyptian, like many languages in the same region, doesn't transcribe its own vowels. Which leaves it to the imagination what goes between the consonants in any word. I imagine when its whispered, almost any vowel but 'a' or 'i' could be replaced with hissing.

Plus to make up modern words like 'brat' one must link together ancient words that seem to have a similar connotation, ie 'crocodile child.'

Final Mulhorandi blending: Cherdept khosnni...  
Middle Egyptian transliteration: Xrd dpy T qsn qni...  
Egyptian Grammar order: "child-crocodile female wretched-brave"  
Matching English to available words: "Wretched brave crocodile child"  
English: "Impudent brat."


	22. Petrification

NOTE: Lately I have placed *two* artworks of Edwin and Imoen on my Deviant Art page :)

There will be no FFFF this chapter. Gorion is taking a moment of silence :(

* * *

They spent their hike cleverly dodging bandits and scouts, snaking their way out into the woodlands in the general direction of their basilisk problem. A nearby stream became Aegis' guide for awhile until at last Kivan deposited them just behind an overlook, alongside a rocky spring. Climbing up on the overlook, a person could see the shrub-covered rocky areas that defined the general area of basilisk infestation. The two elves could supposedly pick out the tiny shapes of marble statues even from there.

As the group readied for lunch, Branwen briefly came up to the overlook to ask a question of Aegis. "Are we heading down there to have a look this afternoon?"

The ranger woman nodded. "Our wizards can only cast so many_ Mirrored Eyes_ spells each day, the way I understand it, so it makes sense to get down there today and make use of what we've got. We can get a handle on fighting the basilisks and scope out the infestation, but I don't think we're going to be doing any 'rescues' yet today. We'll leave that to tomorrow.

"I'll let everyone know," she said, turning away.

Kivan barely made a sound as he dropped down from the trees and joined her on the overlook, but she felt him coming without even looking. At first Aegis had attributed his deathly thundercloud as a figment of her imagination. But given what she was, Aegis thought, perhaps it was time to put some serious thought into this uncanny feeling he gave her.

[Thank you for guiding us,] she greeted, looking over to see him peering quietly down at 'Mutamin's Garden.' The elf leaned on his longbow like a walking staff and nodded quietly in response to her. [Will you stay with us?] There were many petrified people to save from basilisks, and Kivan seemed decent enough.

He glanced at her, his mouth stretching into a very slight grimace. [Bandits to hunt.] It was an incredibly single-minded answer.

[They say you are hunting the half-ogre bandit leader, Tazok,] she broached carefully, wanting to understand him.

Kivan twitched slightly at the name and lowered his head a little. Then he nodded. His hood was up again, and it was difficult for Aegis to read anything about him. The height difference didn't help her glimpse much of his face. From what she could see of his chin now, he was frowning heavily.

[Will you tell me why?] she asked.

He lifted his head a little to look her in the eyes, and Aegis thought perhaps the best word to describe Kivan, from voice to appearance to demeanor, was 'husky.' He had a dark and distrusting look to his green eyes, and reminded her slightly of a loner wolf. This was understandable. Kivan had not known her for very long, and he had clearly been through much; her experience watching Xan struggle with Branwen suggested that elves had a very different sense of time, change, and relationships than humans did.

When a long silence had stretched between them and he still had not answered her, she slowly approached him. Her movement caused him to straighten up slightly, his fingers tightening on the bow. He did not ward her off or flee however, even as she lifted up a hand and hesitantly eased the edge of his hood back from his face. In the midday light, Aegis could see at least one long, deep scar trailing along Kivan's throat.

She wanted to kill Tazok. Now. With her hands. The sudden rush of sensation surprised Aegis, thrumming out into her fingers in a similar way to her healing instinct. She wanted to help Kivan- no, she wanted to _protect_ him- and if Tazok was responsible for the horrific scars over his abdomen and throat then she wanted to tear the half-ogre apart. She took a slow breath to steady herself and then backed up a step.

[Parent, lover, sibling, or child?] she asked, and he lifted his head, staring at her with a drawn frown.

[How?] he wanted to know where her insight had come from.

[I just lost someone too. Though, I bled less in the process.]

Kivan sneered, looking away angrily and clenching his fist.

Aegis lowered her eyes for a moment. [If that made you bitter, you sorely underestimate how much I loved my father. I had no other parent, no other mentor, no greater spiritual guide. He martyred himself to save me, and by blood I'm not even his child. He never told me, but I was the daughter of his enemy.]

He remained tense for a long moment, before his shoulders slowly drooped. [Pairbonded. Tazok captured us. I am naught but the half that survived.]

Aegis grimaced. [How long ago?] Perhaps this explained the mantle of death that seemed to cloak Kivan; perhaps he was somehow haunted by the death of his wife.

[Many years. Never found him. Had to stop looking. And then... out of nowhere... He shows up here. The last thing he will ever see will be one of my arrows.]

The woman was quiet for a long moment. [You can't do it alone,] she noted.

Kivan turned a grim expression back on her, his fingers still tight on the bow. Half of him burned with the message that he would and could do _anything_ to avenge his wife. The other half was dark and stormy, because he had already tried, and he knew she spoke correctly.

[If you could do it, then it would already have been done.] He answered her with bitter silence. [Well... perhaps when we are done properly equipping ourselves it will make sense for us to join you. You just want Tazok, but _we_ need to be worth an entire bandit army.]

[I cannot tolerate the drow,] Kivan explained at last why he would not be tempted to help her with the basilisks.

[That drow could have hid the truth from you a lot longer,] Aegis reminded him. [Guess with Xan in the party she'd let her guard down and just decided to trust you. Don't worry, she won't do that again.]

Kivan jerked his chin up fiercely. [You chastise me and defend a spider? You have learned the wrong language.]

Aegis lifted a brow. [Yeah? Well, I don't abandon people for second thoughts. She was desperate for a chance to prove herself, and I gave it. She'll make her fate with her actions now, not her skin.]

Kivan shook his head.

* * *

"It's dead!" Minsc boomed happily, provoking the people closest to the surprise-basilisk-flanking to slowly uncover their eyes.

Dynaheir peered past her fingers and then groaned. "It would be Branwen who got petrified first," the Wychlaran noted ironically. "It, of course, couldn't have been anyone else."

The cleric was frozen halfway through a "FOR TEMPUS" assault on a basilisk that had surprised them on their left flank. She had unfortunately made quite an amount of eye contact, and though she'd proven hardy enough to resist the beast (and wrestle it away from Xan) she had finally succumbed just moments before Minsc cleaved the scaly monster in twain.

"She what!?" Xan cried out. He uncovered his face and dashed forward, looking horrified up at his statue-ified companion.

"Don't worry!" Minsc laughed. "War-Woman has survived this before!"

"Turn her back!" the enchanter hissed, looking at Ajantis. "Why do _you_ have the rod!? You are not protected by any means! Nevermind, turn her back! turn her back!"

Ajantis came forward with the Rod of _Stone to Flesh_, and gently tapped Branwen and said the trigger words. Immediately there was a shuddering noise as gravel and rock slipped away and revealed flesh once more. Branwen stumbled, dazed. Minsc caught her shoulder and Xan sighed in dramatic relief.

"_Dammit_!" she protested. "Again!? It wasn't fun the first time!"

"Well!" Aegis muttered. "That was exciting. Our newest failure. Tell me wizards, any ideas?"

"We were ambushed!" Xan exclaimed. "What can be helped about that? Clearly nothing! We are _doomed_ to repeat this experience, only next time more of us will surely succumb to the whims of luck and be paralyzed! There is no way to have proper foresight: If we send out scouts, those scouts will be petrified; If I use divination, I'm to understand that I can be petrified through my own clairvoyance. It's _hopeless_! We should give up on this venture now before we all end up decorating a museum!"

Branwen was rubbing a kink out of her shoulder, but at this gush of ridiculously hopeless gloom, she leaned over to snatch her elf about the chest. Xan squeaked in surprise as she dragged him backwards and hoisted him clear off of the ground. "Calm down little man," she teased, hugging him to her like one might hug a kitten. Xan fidgeted, kicked, pouted, and then finally slumped into her hold; quite dismayed. Branwen chuckled and gave him a smooch on the temple. "I've got this!" she told the party.

"You treat me like a _doll_," he told her indignantly, peering up at her from the wrap of her arms, as the party continued discussing the issue of the basilisks. "I am most certainly _not_, you know. A doll. I am a _man. _And I would appreciate a _little_ more respect and dignity and so forth on that count!"

The cleric smiled gently. "Aye, you are a man, I make no mistake about that. Gloriously clever, you are, like _wind_ in a sword fight, and with terrifying charms to boot. But Xan, your heart is flutterin' like a wee bird," Branwen told him. "You were about to start having a fit, you were. Just take a moment to breathe."

He frowned uncertainly up at her a moment. Then he heaved a dramatic sigh and closed his eyes, trying to steady his feelings. Branwen hummed appreciatively.

"Basilisks are ambush predators," Aegis was saying. "There's nothing we can do about that. It's not like we can make a big fireball in the sky to try and attract their attention and flush them all out. Can we go a little heavier on our _Protection _spells, maybe?"

"The problem is the timing, simian," Edwin explained, eyeing Xan with amusement and shaking his head. Pranking the elf back was honestly unnecessary; Xan seemed to live in a state of constant self-induced terror. "The _Mirror Eyes_ spell is on a very limited time span, and we can't keep even _you_ shielded for hours, much less a party this size. We need a more intelligent way of pursuing our targets."

"Well, we can try casting the protection from petrification on Xan, and having him use divinations," Imoen suggested. Aegis noticed with bemusement that Edwin's familiar, which had been missing for several days, was once more sitting on the thief's head. Imoen no longer seemed to mind the creature.

"This may sound unintuitive," Dynaheir began, "but heareth me out. We may have greater success if we split up into smaller groups."

"How do you figure?" Aegis asked.

"We can cover more ground," Dynaheir explained. "Imagine, for a moment, an hour where we are all together under protection spells, and how many basilisks we could kill. Now imagine an hour in which we are all in small groups heading separate directions under protection spells, and how many basilisks we could kill."

The group continued to debate for awhile as the wizards tried to determine the best tactics for divvying up the work load. In the mean time, Imoen took out the group's _Mirror Eyes_ potions and _Stone to Flesh_ scrolls and started to pass them out. In a disaster scenario where the person who had the Rod was petrified, or in the event that they were split up, it was best to have a back-up plan that almost anyone could implement. _  
_

The group was going back and forward between three or four creative strategies for tackling the basilisk menace when Aegis suddenly stopped mid-sentence and looked around. Sure enough, Kivan appeared walking out of the brush and up beside them. She looked at him in surprise and then smiled.

"Welcome back?" she asked. Had he changed his mind about helping them?

Kivan grunted, stabbing the butt of his longbow momentarily into the ground so it stood upright. He tossed his hood back and pulled out a long strip of green cloth, which he folded a few times until it formed a thick buffer. Then he lifted it up and began tethering it around his head and eyes.

Edwin lifted a brow. "So... the _archer_ is blinding himself?" he asked dryly.

Kivan finished, picked up his bow, nocked an arrow, turned, and loosed. The arrow flew straight past Edwin's face, sinking into a narrow tree just a foot behind him. "You breathe loudly," the elf supplied irritably. "I will be able to hear the lizards." Then he turned his head to Aegis, suggesting he'd follow her lead.

Imoen was quiet a moment. She looked down at her bowstaff and then back up at Kivan. {I... I think I am a little turned on right now.}

Edwin, who was still unsettled after being shot at by a blind archer, turned to grimace at her and lift a brow. Then he shook his head in disbelief and swatted her over the back of her hood.

{Ow! What?} she exclaimed, laughing. {If I have to listen to you complementing Viconia's rack all day, then you have to listen to me!} While Kivan was as adorable and moody as Xan, Imoen had no intention of pursuing him or anyone else at the moment. The thief could tell she was on the right track to bugging the hell out of her mentor, however; so she adopted a sultry posture and tone of voice, and spouted absolute garbage: {Mmm, what a gorgeous... _weapon_ he has, I wonder what it would be like to handle it-}_  
_

She had to stop talking because Edwin was trying to strangle her and she was nearly ready to die laughing. As predicted, _someone_ was not exactly interested in hearing about any other man's sex appeal.

Branwen settled Xan back down and the enchanter dusted himself off for a moment before coming up beside the Wild Elf. If was Kivan who spoke first, however, and his voice was kind: [Are you alright?]

Xan glanced back at the Norheimer and then returned his gaze to Kivan. [For the moment,] he answered. [I... perhaps if there is time later I will tell you how I became part of this group.]

[Is she dear to you...?] Kivan asked, unable to help himself. He could appreciate closeness when he saw it in others, for all that the sight of it made him stew in bittersweet memories.

Xan was quiet a moment. Then he answered quietly: _"Hy__ë_ quetanë tiré na inyenen fëmelissén."

Kivan frowned, surprised by this evasive response. _"Elyë quetanë tiré na elyenen tain?" _The enchanter wrung his fingers together and then sighed.

_"Tires iny__ë_ ___erllo ránastallo _uistië _tiré,"_ he began in a rush, _"a__nanta lavanen l______á_nen iny_ë_ mela ___tirén. Tir__ë_n na ___meldan." _He waited to see if Kivan would accuse him of foolishness, or call him back to his senses.___  
_

The ranger smiled understandingly and reached over to pat the smaller elf gently on the shoulder. "_Elyë mela tir________él? __Á_ anata tai ___lav__________á_ lúm_é."_

* * *

The group ended up trying numerous tactics against the basilisks. Most simple and straightforward was letting a magically protected Aegis bait the lizards back to the group and having Kivan stay with the wizards to ensure their safety. As their skill level grew, however,they began trying more daring tactics to improve their speed and thoroughness rooting out the monsters. It was possible to avoid the dreaded gaze of the creature even with no magical protections of any sort, and so the group attempted to figure out just how far they could stretch this strategy.

It was clear they had quite an infestation on their hands, with a large number of juveniles, and Aegis suspected that Mutamin must be breeding the creatures. The part began breaking off into groups to sweep the land more effectively. Sometimes they handled the creature alone; other times they would lead them back to Aegis. Xan's divination allowed him to watch over the party at times.

Edwin, of course, was the most selfish with his protection spells, and he cast them upon himself whenever he felt they might be needed.

Basilisks ate the petrified remains of their prey, and as such their waste resembled a heap of brittle mining slag. While Viconia muttered something about poop and enchanters, the others were happy to overturn these heaps looking for gems, gold, magic items, and other goodies. Such things typically survived both the petrification and the digestion processes. Kagain blithely warned everyone not to cast 'Stone to Flesh' on any of the slag heaps unless they wanted a 'fun' surprise. Ajantis turned a little green.

The basilisks weren't the only danger to be had that day. In some cases, the conversations seemed just as lethal. Viconia had come up beside Kivan and begun speaking with him. She got to, "I worship Lolth no longer-" before she had an arrow in her face and very, very angry Wild Elf daring her to say another word. Moments later, Ajantis was pushing Viconia behind him and trying to turn Kivan's bow aside. Kivan did not permit his bow to be turned.

"Keep. Her. Away." That was all the ranger had to say on the issue of Viconia.

Dynaheir and Ajantis briefly discussed their Viconia preservation strategies if she tried to make friends with the Wild Elf again at any time in the future. They had each clearly found an ally in one another.

The afternoon was not necessarily easy. Branwen got petrified no less than three times, until finally it was clear that she simply could not avoid making eye-contact with the monsters. Kagain got dragged clear off his feet by an enormous brute of a basilisk at least three times his size, which attempted to pull him down into a den of sorts. He was lucky that he had been near Minsc, because the Rashemi grabbed hold of his arms and they managed to skid to a stop. By the time Aegis had been called in to hack the monster to teeny tiny bits, Kagain had sustained quite a number of ghastly tears to his leg. Branwen and Viconia had to call for a brief break to apply emergency healing attention, and even after that he was limping.

After that, Kagain was in so foul a mood that he seemed primed to explode at the slightest provocation. Kivan and Viconia had been blessedly silent on the issue of dwarves, but Ajantis' offer to carry the dwarf's pack had nearly resulted in an axe to his kneecaps.

Kagain had taken two big swings at Ajantis before Aegis managed to call him to order. The paladin and dwarf eyed one another angrily. Then a basilisk was lunging at the party from the side. Viconia spun and summoned down a sphere of magical and impenetrable darkness on the monster. Kivan slaughtered it with arrows as it flailed about confused in the light-less interior. It was beautiful teamwork and worked only because Kivan was already blind. Viconia just scowled angrily to herself afterwards.

Perhaps the biggest problem was that the threat of petrification had left them all feeling paranoid and slightly helpless.

* * *

{I am not saying you like men! I am just saying that when a man becomes that upset at the mention of another man's staff, sometimes that is because he is repressing-!}

{I am going to kill her. I am going to grab her scrawny little neck and twist her head off,} the Red Wizard muttered, rubbing his temples.

{My goodness, when did this start? I asked Jackal when you got so touchy and he said-}

{Jackal?} Edwin looked at her. She pointed at the bat on her shoulder {You _named_ him?}

{Of course!} Imoen giggled. {He said you hadn't named him, so I had to! How could you not give your own familiar a name?}

Edwin glared at the creature, which was snuggled up innocently under Imoen's chestnut hair, dozing. _Traitor. Come here and I will send you home, I have no more need of you on this plane._

The infernal bat blinked away and then looked up at him. _No! _the little thing protested.

_No_? he confessed surprise. _You prefer a wench's bosom to the depths of hell? Far be it from me to critique your sudden change in taste, but this is new. Shall I start booking you whores at the next brothel?_

The familiar chirped and Imoen casually reached down to her belt, pulled out a small jar of preserved peaches, unscrewed it, and handed a slice to the bat. In all his years, Edwin had never seen another person correctly identify 'Jackal' as a fruit bat. At times he had wondered if any Mulan people even _knew_ about the existence of fruit bats. He had at times threatened to use the familiar to suck another mage's blood, especially when he was younger. Never once had someone called his bluff.

But here the bat dined daintily upon Imoen's gift, all the while informing Edwin that the Monkey had occasionally fed him treats like shaved watermelon, strawberries, and slices of peach; and therefore Jackal liked her much more than he liked Edwin.

_Ah. Of course. Your loyalty can be bought with fruit. Silly me. _Edwin sighed. {Monkey, since when can you talk to _my_ familiar?} the Red Wizard asked irritably, but Imoen held up a hand to get his attention and he listened. There was a basilisk nearby. He readied one of his acid arrows.

{I gave him some disappearing ink to play with,} Imoen grinned, petting the bat and then nocking an arrow. {So he wrote to me! He's remarkably tame for an outer planes denizen. Why does hell even _have_ fruit bats?}

{He was made fiendish. He did not begin such,} Edwin muttered. Then the basilisk lunged out from the brush, and Imoen hit it with an arrow. Edwin launched a sizzling acid streamer into its face, burning open its jaw and its left eye. It roared, lunging at Imoen.

{Well anyway, as I was saying,} she giggled, pelting it with another arrow. {He told me that you have been touchy since I stole Elminster's hat-}

Edwin snarled, downing the ugly lizard with a spray of magic missiles before whirling on his apprentice to yell at her. There he paused, blinking at the feminine statue which greeted him. A laugh erupted from his throat, and he looked her up and down.

Imoen had been petrified at the last possible moment. Well! At least he might have a few moments of reprieve from her irritating voice. {Hold that thought,} he teased her petrified form, bending over to check the gravel pile for gems. There were a few. Perhaps he could just leave Imoen there and let the group find her later? No, no, what if a basilisk ate her? Pity; it would have served her right to be abandoned for a bit.

He had only been looting a scant handful of seconds when he heard a crackling noise and glanced up. Then his eyes widened.

The petrified girl was cracking. Seams had opened up in the statue, the stone churning and bulging as if ready to rupture and burst from within. Golden light suddenly flickered out through the cracks.

The Red Wizard cursed in surprise, bolting forward and snatching up the scroll from his belt. He brought it into contact with the rapidly fragmenting stone and spoke the trigger words.

The statue contracted sharply and then there was an audible shudder like the sound of gravel rolling together. Stone gave way to flesh from the crown of Imoen's head downward. With fascination and alarm, Edwin saw that she was covered in thin lacerations. Golden dust wafted around her, and she sucked in a struggling breath, her face contorting into an expression of baffled pain. The moment her knees were free she began to buckle, and as her ankles returned to normal she collapsed.

Edwin hissed in surprise and grabbed her about her middle, easing her to the ground as she writhed and panted. Her gasps sounded as if she were struggling to breathe through liquid for a moment and then she found her voice, crying out weakly and then louder in surprise and pain. Her Red Wizard glanced briefly at the golden smoke as it either dissipated or retracted. When he looked back down at her, he realized her blood was running down his arms. Then he understood the gravity of the situation.

"V-viconia! Branwen!" he called in alarm, pulling free a healing potion from her belt and bringing it to her face. Imoen convulsed and writhed and he grabbed hold of her chin with a red-slicked hand. "Drink!" he begged. "Drink!"

She shuddered, the blood on her lips indicating that some of her wounds were much more than flesh deep. Then she seemed to focus on him, and he was able to slip the potion between her lips. She swallowed. Without hesitation he grabbed another potion.

"Viconia!" he shouted angrily because he knew the drow wasn't so far away that her exquisite hearing could not pick up his voice. Imoen whimpered and he hushed her, biting free the cork and then pushing the potion to her mouth. "Drink," he insisted, because he was still covered in her blood and he did not know the extent of her internal injuries.

"What happened?" the Viconia demanded in surprise, hurrying towards him around the nearby statues. "What did you _do_?"

"Her statue was damaged mid-petrification and I do not know how or why!" Edwin answered in a snarl. "Now is not the time for academic questions!"

Viconia agreed, kneeling and placing her hands on the aggravating girl. Imoen trembled violently as her lacerations sealed up. Her eyes closed to dazed slits and she took in her first deep and heavy breath since being rescued. Edwin checked her over and felt her pulse before sighing in relief and nodding.

"Hnh," the drow muttered doubtfully. "Petrification did this?"

"A few seconds after the curse fell on her, she started breaking apart," Edwin elaborated. "I do not know if the reaction was owed to a strange basilisk or a strange thief, but I strongly recommend swift action if she become petrified again."

"Truly? Then I am surprised at your quickness of action in saving her," the dark elf remarked. "For all the bother she gives you, I would assume a Thayvian might have stood by and watched gleefully; perhaps taken notes; or maybe dissected the leftover fragments..." Edwin lifted an irritable expression to Viconia.

"Viconia, has it somehow escaped your _gloriously_ dark mind that I intend to kill Dynaheir, and that Imoen is my foothold in the group? I should hope you are observant enough to have realized that."

The cleric laughed. "Yes. And I suppose that's reason enough to keep her from harm. But your heart races, rivvil. Tell me, are you _fond_ of your irritating, purple whore?"

Edwin smirked at that, perking up a little. "Not as fond as I am of ebony ladies with wicked smiles, Dark Flower. The offer to share my bedroll still stands open, you know."

"It's good to know you didn't take my teasing to heart then," Viconia answered with a purr, "but my question from last night also stands: Why would I possibly want _you_? You have no proper respect for a woman of my... caliber."

He laughed. "Let me tell you what I have observed about you and your 'caliber,' Viconia. The reason you won't take me up on my offer is because _I_ propositioned _you_. You want to be the huntress, Dark Flower. You can enjoy a challenging partner, or a submissive one, but you cannot endure a dominant one... Being pursued makes you nervous. That's why you are all purrs and teasing when you think you are in control; but cold and hostile whenever you are approached directly."

Viconia eyed him with an irritable scowl and perhaps a bit of curiosity. To be honest, she was surprised a man with so little common sense could dig so deeply at the root of her. But curiosity was soon overwhelmed by the rush of a rebuttal. "Your presumptions _disgust_ me rivvil, but it gives me great pleasure to think perhaps you are actually describing _yourself_. I wonder if that means all I have to do to shut your sneering mouth is to... _dominate_?" she postulated, leaning forward to ghost his lips with her own straight over the half-unconscious Imoen.

"Rest assured, Viconia, _this _Thayvian male is as red-blooded as his cloak," he answered her with an amused smile, calling her bluff. "And if you continue tempt him quite like this, you may also tempt him to use a spell of binding on you, that he might torment you better."

"You're presumptuous, male. Too presumptuous," she hissed, and he realized she had drawn his belt knife and the tip was pointed at his chin. "It could get you hurt."

"Mm, but it is so fun bothering you, Night Flower. Your retorts are always so strong-armed and sharp for someone as... sensuous as yourself." He smiled delightedly. "You are _very_ beautiful woman, Viconia DeVir." The dark elf pursed her lips thoughtfully, teetering between sheer disgust and the thrill of breaking a man as pig-headed as Edwin Odesseiron. He was _almost_ desirable, in his irritating and perverse sort of way. She might even _like_ leaving a few scars alongside those pretty black tattoos...

"Is that so...?" the dark elf purred, leaning just a little closer again.

"If you two," Imoen coughed, "are going to have kinky sex on top of me, I'm going to throw up on both of you."

Viconia laughed, retreating. Edwin sneered. "I will tell the group you are fine," she told him, tossing his knife to the ground and then retreating back the way she'd came. Edwin hummed in annoyance, and then looked down at the bloodied girl he was holding.

"_Kwefai_, could you not have remained unconscious for even a few moments longer?"

She chuckled and then moaned, clutching at her head. "What happened to me...?" she asked slowly. "I feel... I feel _awful_..."

Edwin frowned and shook his head down at her. "I do not know," he admitted. "But I will find out. Can you stand?" He slowly eased her to her knees, and then pulled her up to her feet. When she wavered he steadied her by the arm. "We will need to rejoin the group. You obviously cannot fight in such a condition."

"I'll... I'll be fine," she disagreed, leaning on her quarter staff. "You can lead and I'll just take a moment to gather my wits..."

Edwin was examining her now he was certain the blood loss and trauma had exhausted the girl, even if most of her obvious damaged had been healed. {No, no.} He looked back at her face. {Do not argue with me. I am going to magically blind you, Monkey. And do not resist the spell; I want it to last.}

"_Blind_ me?!" she was startled. "Edwin, I'm not Kivan! What if I wander off to the side and get my ankles gnawed off, or step in quicksand, or-?"

He sneered at her. {I am not going to leave you blind and _alone_, stupid child; I shall make sure you are fine.} He lifted his hands to her face. {Now hold still, this will not hurt. (It makes her useless, but better this than risk her catching the sight of a lizard and exploding; I am running out of protection spells...)}

{I nearly exploded?} she asked him as he murmured in draconic and a pale whiteness settled over her eyes. He waved a hand in front of her face and then nodded to himself. When he took her shoulder and propelled her gently forward, she staggered a bit and leaned heavily on her staff. Seeing this, he took her hand and pulled it across his shoulder, ducking slightly to accommodate her.

{Lean on me,} he instructed, {since I am covered in your blood regardless.}

Imoen did as he bade her, leaning heavily into his side. He eased his other arm around her back and made no fuss about helping her walk in the direction Viconia had departed in. Some distance away, they found the party had stopped to rest in a clearing of stone and sand. Talking to Aegis was a new woman in heavy splint and a horned helmet. She had a very sharp and weathered face tattooed with two, almost whimsically placed, violet diamonds. At present a cocky grin overtook the rest of her facial features, and she was clearly impressed with Aegis, Viconia, and Branwen.

Imoen blinked helplessly about when Edwin suddenly paused. {What is it?} she asked nervously. {Is it another basilisk?}

{Where the _hell_ do all these _enormous_ women keep coming from?} the Red Wizard snarled incredulously.

* * *

*dungeoneer: Honestly there needs to be a non-provocative profession word for 'thief' or 'rogue' which would imply that anyone could have one on their team, no matter their alignment XD, if they needed to attack an undead crypt and expected there to be traps in need of disarmament. "I'm a rogue!" seems like a comment on a personality characteristic and "I'm a thief!" seems to imply the paladin of the team should already be locking you up XD.

Take a look at Kivan's portrait sometime. It does appear he actually has a slit throat :3 Cannot tell if coincidence, or result of portrait team actually getting a detail right for once.

I am pretty sure the only reason you die when petrified in Baldur's Gate is because they made the design choice to insta-kick petrified characters from the party and 1) You cannot kick the main character and also 2) you cannot leave a map without gathering your party, so you could hypothetically end up in a situation with a petrified party member and no scrolls to help them and if this player is your main character then the situation can't be resolved and the game is unplayable XD.

That said, it was fun to work it into the story XD.

**For the Curious from last Chapter - Mulhorandi  
**(I hand translate Middle Egyptian using a dictionary by Paul Dickson and some online references for word order and pronouns)

_"Rrodi ma'aer, Kwefai. Nat'tsha pa __irt _aerreta twon "R" whet'tsha," Edwin insisted.  
- "Pay attention, Monkey. This is why you must learn to roll your "R"s." ('Roll' is literally 'roll with distinction like papyrus scrolls'; 'Kwefai' meaning 'Monkey' is a combination of two egyptian words for monkey, which are transliterated as 'gwf' and 'gwy')

_"Tam! Inik gomi rodir "H" whet idin djeda medwa,"_ Imoen disagreed playfully.  
- "No! I could (get away with) speaking that using "H" instead." ('using instead' is literally 'replace/exchange with the proper sounds to be spoken')

_"Cherdept khosnni..."_ the Thayvian growled, and clearly he was being insulting.  
- "Impudent brat" (Literally: 'Wretched-Brave crocodile-child')

_"Rek'herok penest,"_ she beamed innocently.  
- "Nasty Dragon" ('Rek'herok' meaning 'Dragon' is literally 'Fire king'; 'nasty' is from 'clay/algae/scum')

**For the Curious from this Chapter - Elvish  
**(I am hand-translating Quenya using a dictionary by Ambar Eldaron and a good online declension/conjugation guide at Tolkein Gateway. Knowing Latin certainly helps, but I'm not case-consistent. It only needs to work roughly, right? XD)

Xan was quiet a moment. Then he answered quietly: _"Hy__ë_ quetanë tiré na inyenen fëmelissén."  
- "A person (Xzar ;) ) once called her my platonic lover." (To make 'platonic lover' I combined 'fea' meaning 'spirit' with 'melisse' meaning 'lover.' I do not imagine Xan invented the word; I imagine elves have quite an enormous quantity of words for love!)

Kivan frowned, surprised by this evasive answer. _"Elyë quetanë tiré na elyenen tain?" _The enchanter wrung his fingers together and then sighed.  
- "And what do you call her?"

_"Tires iny__ë_ ___erllo ránastallo _uistië _tiré,"_ he began in a rush, _"a__nanta lavanen l______á_nen iny_ë_ mela ___tirén. Tir__ë_n na ___meldan." _He waited to see if Kivan would accuse him of foolishness, or call him back to his senses.  
- "I have only known her one month, and yet in some manner I love (in a friendly way) her. She is my friend (this word can mean anything from 'a friend' to 'my beloved,' or 'my sweetheart.' To what degree Xan means it can only be guessed at; but he accidentally uses the possessive first person pronoun '-n' ending on his nouns, through which he calls her *his*.)"

The ranger smiled understandingly and reached over to pat the smaller elf gently on the shoulder. "_Elyë mela tir________él? __Á_ anata tai ___lav__________á_ lúm_é."  
_- "You love (in a friendly way) her? Give it some time."

**My Draconic is Skyrim Thuum, for which there is a website and an automatic translator XD**


	23. Unnecessary Fighting

In which the FFFFs do actually make a return, and Edwin acts as our stand-in Eldoth! Sort of. He doesn't do anywhere near as good a job; It's hard to be as horrible as Eldoth! One supposes we might note with surprise that Edwin is actually _less_ horrible than at least one other person in the world.

* * *

Unnecessary Fighting

* * *

"Glad you two found us when- Imm!" Aegis exclaimed when she saw her sister. Xan and Ajantis looked over from where they'd been arguing with each other about the heavens only knew what topic. Dynaheir and Branwen turned about in surprise. Then the whole lot of them darted forward to help. "What happened!? Excuse me, Shar-Teel." She left the side of their new acquaintance to get to the pink girl's side.

"I'm allergic to petrification!" Imoen replied in a laugh as Ajantis and Dynaheir tried to relieve Edwin of his burden. He ignored them. "I crack to pieces!"

"This was petrification?" Dynaheir asked in disbelief as Edwin settled Imoen down on a rock. She and Branwen quickly examined the girl's injuries as Ajantis procured a flask of water and offered it to her. She took it greedily. Dynaheir huffed. "Did thou _blind_ her?" she asked Edwin, perhaps sounding a little more rude in her exasperation than she had intended to.

Edwin scowled. _What!_ Here he was covered in Imoen's blood, after narrowly saving his apprentice's life, with no motive whatsoever to harm her, and having devoted time and energy to tutoring her in magic; and Dynaheir was being testy with _him_? The nerve of barbarian wenches. He didn't answer her question and instead began using magic to clean the blood off of himself.

Aegis had a look at her sister, and took a moment to reassure herself of Imoen's safety. Then she sighed in relief.

"Who is this newest unpleasantly sized female?" Edwin asked grumpily when he was no longer covered in blood. Hopefully the smell would not linger. Without thinking about it, he turned to cast the same cleansing spell on Imoen. Dynaheir frowned curiously but said nothing.

The new woman, who until that moment had looked a little endeared by all the sisterly love in the air, suddenly laughed and gave Edwin a contemptuous look.

"I am Shar-Teel, male!" she told him almost maliciously, "and I was just taking a relaxing break from bounty hunting. Another stupid bandit, too dull to realize when a woman has him outmatched." Imoen frowned uncertainly. She suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

"Yes, well, I'm sure it doesn't happen very _often_," the Thayvian remarked.

Shar-Teel grinned. "Watch your tongue, pork chop, I'm not above gutting a tubby little man like you just for fun. Might make for good eaten'."

"T-_tubby_!?" Edwin reeled, mouth agape. Imoen's eyes rounded. Then the Thayvian's eyes narrowed as he recovered, his upper lip curling into a snarl. "Aegis!" he called to their leader. "I demand the right to _roast_ this ogre bint to teach her a lesson in basic manners!" They presumed he meant the Thayvian variant thereof, as no one from the Sword Coast would have described Edwin as having anything remotely like 'basic manners.'

"No one's burning anyone," Aegis told him.

Shar-Teel laughed at his face. "You just try, hedge wizard. See if I don't impale you before you can conjure up your first parlor trick, even with all that hot air!"

Edwin made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. "You belligerent harpy, The only impalation that should be concerning _you_ is the dearth of men who'd suffer doing so betwixt your thighs."

The violet-tattooed woman began drawing her swords rapidly, but any fight was intercepted by Ajantis' equally quick approach. "Do not speak that way to the fairer sex!" he shouted, advancing angrily on the Red Wizard.

"Edwin!" Imoen was still blind and felt helpless. "Don't die!" The wizard glanced at her in disbelief.

"Fairer sex!" Shar-Teel exclaimed in a laugh, her fervid hatred swinging from wizard to paladin. "The only weaker sex is male, fool! Stand down before you hurt yourself, I've no need for protection from the likes of chumps like you!"

Edwin sputtered, "I am not going to die against-!"

"Just find your happy place!" Imoen wailed blindly. "Focus on Viconia oogling you naked last night! Imagine a thousand boobies! Concubines, everywhere!" The Red Wizard paused, a bemused expression writhing over his face.

"Is that how they typically talk in Mulhorandi?" Xan asked Dynaheir in a sigh. She grimaced. He sighed. "We're all _doomed_." Kivan muttered something about hot-tempered fools.

"I'll tell you what, you spineless slugs," Shar-Teel was laughing. "Let's play a game. I challenge one of you men to a duel. If you can beat me at my own game, hand-to-hand, I'll help you kill these basilisks. If not, you owe me twenty gold! No offensive magic either, paladin! Fair?"

"I do not wager over blood sport!" Ajantis exclaimed.

"So you're a coward, then? Fair enough!" she grinned.

Edwin sneered, looking from Imoen back to the female warrior. "Coward? (Says the woman who excluded magic from the wager...)" he muttered. "No, no, I say we keep walking! We have no need for the likes of her. (I have baited fewer fights in weeks than she has in minutes, and I am actively attempting to assassinate another member of the group!)" Aegis, who up until a few moments ago had really liked Shar-Teel, did give this argument some thought.

"Oh, poor, poor Edwin," Viconia mock-sympathized. "Does the big, bad, scary, warrior woman frighten you?"

"What? Sorry. I cannot hear you, Viconia, I am too busy 'finding my happy place.' Tell me, do you have _any_ body hair?"_  
_

Ajantis, fortunately for Edwin as he surely would have protested such bawdy language, was still talking to Shar-Teel. In fact, he was trying to back out of a fight he had never meant to start. "I am no coward, lady! And you insult my honor by saying so. But I have no wish to fight you!" He looked pleadingly to Aegis, who winced and considered calling Shar-Teel off of him.

The purple-tattooed woman laughed at Ajantis once more. "Some knight _you_ are, afraid to fight a woman! Curs like you are why Amn's such a corrupted, slaving mess right now!"

Ajantis' eyes widened, his hand going to his sword hilt.

"That's right, you backwards, air-headed, virgin boy!" Shar-Teel goaded. "Don't you dare look at me like some princess when you're facing a sword bigger than yours'll ever be! You're an Order squire, aren't you? Moaning bitches all of them, nothing but flowery words with no liver, and I've had my share! You should see them at the festhalls! They can talk of honor all they want but they like to score a quick fuck like any other thug in the-"

"ENOUGH!" Ajantis exploded in a voice louder than any they had ever heard from him. His face was red and his jaws were clenched. "I was _mistaken_," he told them. "This- this _marauder_ is no lady, and unworthy of any polite terminology at all. She is some wretched ghoul, a malevolent poison, and the stench of evil clings to her every word! So be it, Shar-Teel, I _will_ challenge you, if nothing more than to prove your madness!"

"Hold up now!" Aegis exclaimed. "No kill shots! I'm sicking a healer on both of you, win or lose!"

Shar-Teel grinned. "Oh, don't worry milady. I'm sure this clanking bundle of tin can survive a few good... _thrusts_... I won't hurt him too badly."

Livid to the point where he was nearly shaking, Ajantis gestured off to a clearing at their side, and then drew his sword and shield. Shar-Teel used a longsword in her main hand an a dagger in her off. As the two of them slipped into position and readied their arms, the others backed away to give them space.

"Are we's really gonna take this hissy spit-fire with us if the fool beats her, eh?" Kagain groused. "She's a moron as bad as he is, and a loudmouth to boot."

"He won't beat her, Xan assured them with a spiteful grimace. "Sir Black-and-White cannot even begin to imagine what _real_ fighting is like. She's going to play dirty, and he won't be able to respond with anything other than insulting her honor. Which I am pretty sure is nonexistent anyway."

"I want her," Viconia laughed. "Maybe we can get her in a second duel. But who would we use to beat her? Kivan? Would you-"

"Shut. Up."

Viconia sighed heavily. "The Rashemi then?"

Dynaheir chuckled, because while Shar-Teel had thoroughly and verbally abused two men of their party, she had actually been quite pleasant to talk to when faced with her fellow women. The witch glanced back at Edwin. Maybe a little 'marauder' was just what the party needed. That said, someone was going to have to keep her away from Ajantis. The man was a good sort and didn't deserved to be treated like this. "I can ask Minsc if he will do it. Viconia, please make sure she doesn't seriously harm Ajantis?" The drow nodded without having to think about it. Rescuing Ajantis had yielded a surprisingly positive reaction from the paladin and... to be honest... he was a reassuring contrast to Kivan.

"You fools cannot honestly tell me you _like_ that hag?" Edwin muttered in disbelief.

"Her spirit is so fierce!" Branwen praised. "It is too bad she insists on a man beating her! Aegis, Viccy or I could give it a go!" Viconia was not entirely sure she was okay with being 'Viccy,' but she let it slide for now.

"She's already fighting _with_ us," Xan muttered, reinterpreting the ambiguity of the sentence. "This isn't a fight to join us; it is her excuse to beat up on people she dislikes. A group which apparently includes anything male..."

* * *

The duel began with a few slow trades. Ajantis had excellent form. He and Shar-Teel crossed their blades warily, testing each others' strength and speed. Shar-Teel moved like a bull, every motion strong, rapid, and powerful. She had the better footwork of the two, and circled around Ajantis as he maintained a stoic, unyielding fighting stance to better deal with her agility.

Then the battle began to scale upwards. The two committed to heavier sequences of blows, pushing each-other back and forward. They had only scored the most glancing of hits, and neither of them had drawn blood, when Shar-Teel leaped forward and slid the side of her foot over the ground. Dust kicked up into the knight's face as he stepped forward to meet her. He stumbled with the force of his overhand chop, and she took out his legs from under him with a heavy sweep of one boot.

The paladin landed hard on his face and tried to roll over, but Shar-Teel was quicker to react than he. She slammed her boot heel down on his sword hand. Instead of cyring out, Ajantis attempted to roll towards her and to bash her away with his shield. Again he was too slow. Before he managed to lift himself, the woman had planted a knee hard into the back of his armor, hooked her off hand under his shield, and stuffed her dagger up into the armpit of his armor.

This time Ajantis cried out in pain and alarm. Shar-Teel grinned victoriously, jerked the dagger free, and regained her feet. Instead of demanding a surrender or striking at him again, however, she stepped back from the fallen knight and paced about him like a vulture. She was waiting to see if he'd rise. Ajantis didn't disappoint, climbing unsteadily to his knees and grabbing painfully at the side of his breastplate.

"She popped a lung," Kagain laughed.

"Ajantis!" Dynaheir called. "Yield!"

But the paladin was far from done. He glowered up at Shar-Teel, murmuring a low prayer to Helm under his breath. Moments later they received the sensation he had healed himself, because he surged to his feet with renewed vigor. Eschewing his shield, he took up his longsword with both hands.

"Ha," Shar-Teel grinned. "Tough kid. Come on then, boy, show me what a holy knight is made of."

He continued to glower and did not move, waiting for her to act first. Shar-Teel paced around him. When at last she came at him, he intercepted her stride. Stepping forward, he struck down hard and precise with an overhand blow of his sword. The force knocked her off balance and he rammed his main shoulder hard into her chest, causing her to stumble. He kept coming at her, hitting her sword, knocking a knife blow wide, and pushing her backwards a good ten feet or so.

At the end of his push he released his longsword with one hand just as Shar-Teel began to duck low and brace her legs for improved leverage and striking power. She crossed longswords with him and then carved forward with her dagger in the off hand. Ajantis, who had just freed up one of his own hands, turned the blade high with his bracer and grabbed hold of her wrist.

The two struggled, wrestling for control, caught in a deadlock. Ajantis tried to force the dagger into her poorly defended arm. Shar-Teel tried to force it towards his face. They adjusted their footing.

Then the paladin's mistake became clear to everyone as the dagger began to move. Though Ajantis was surely putting all of his might into resisting her, Shar-Teel began forcing the weapon forward, inch by inch, a gleam in her eyes and a grin on her face. Ajantis shifted to try and get better leverage on her, but there was none to be found.

The woman was simply stronger than him.

"How's this feel, male?" Shar-Teel gushed victoriously, forcing Ajantis slowly to his knees as he tried to avoid the dagger tip. "How does it feel to know you are _weak_?"

The paladin swallowed hard. He struggled vainly for a moment more, unable to believe he had failed. Then he grimaced. "I yield," he whispered. Shar-Teel didn't respond, continuing to bear down on him. Ajantis sneered. "I yield!" he called loud enough for the party to hear.

* * *

Shar-Teel counter her gold happily while the party rested and some members rooted out a few more basilisks. Ajantis stared despondently at the round, having failed to prove or defend his Order's honor at every turn. The only highlight to his current situation was that he currently had three concerned women dabbing at his injuries, but to be honest he scarcely noticed them. When she was convinced Ajantis' lung would not collapse, Viconia abandoned Branwen and Dynaheir and came up to smile at Shar-Teel.

"Are you _sure_ we cannot convince you to stay with us?" the drow purred. "You would be such an... _asset_... to our little team!"

"Ditch the men," Shar-Teel laughed. "Then we'll talk. Can't be that hard, right? You've only got, what, five? Which of them are important?"

"Six," Xan piped up indignantly. "I am also a man."

Shar-Teel laughed at him in surprise. "Oh, of _course_ you are. My mistake! And such a pretty... _pretty_ man you are! Mmm, you'd go for a fair price in a brothel, I'd wager. Considered the career change? The road seems such a rough place for such a pretty little bird..." Xan stared. Shar-Teel winked.

Branwen looked up from Ajantis' side and was nearly about to say something, but Xan reached out to grab her arm. His cyan eyes were narrowed and his grip was firm.

"I'll tell you what," Shar-Teel drawled, turning her attention back to Viconia. "I'll duel one more of your boys before heading out! Same deal as before! How does that sound? So, who will it be, eh? The Rashemi barbarian man?"

Shar-Teel looked eager, and Viconia reconsidered her suggestion that the woman fight Minsc. The berserker was incredibly strong, but he was also addled and a little simple. Viconia pinned Shar-Teel as clever when it came to tactics, and it was possible that something as simple as a feint might throw Minsc off in combat.

Aegis heard the offer to duel and looked to Kagain to see where he stood on the issue. The dwarf who growled at her. She nodded understandingly and pat his broad shoulder. The leg was clearly still giving him trouble, and he had no desire to admit it _or_ lose twenty gold. Aegis wagered Kivan could take Shar-Teel down, but he clearly felt this and the fighter woman were both wastes of time. In fact, as she looked around, Aegis saw Kivan slipping off to scout basilisks to the north of them. Dynaheir was just about to call Minsc forward when an unexpected volunteer stepped forward.

"I challenge you, Shar-Teel," Xan said, striding up to them.

Imoen spit out the water she'd been drinking, choking and sputtering so hard that even Edwin felt compelled to reach out and pat her back. He noticed some of the water had come out with blood in it, and his brows drew together. "What?" she choked breathlessly.

"Xan!" Branwen exclaimed in disbelief.

Shar-Teel herself jumped and then howled with laughter. "You? You?! Hahaha! What!? Pretty elf, did I hit a nerve?! You can't beat _me_!"

"I can, and I will," Xan told her calmly. "Hand to hand, as you stipulated. No offensive magic. I will also forego illusions as well, in the interest of fairness."

"Xan!" Branwen hissed again, rising to her knees from Ajantis' side and coming up to the enchanter. "Just what are you trying to prove now?"

"Shar-Teel, I have no interest in traveling with you as a party member," Xan continued. "And I will not hold you up to your end of the bargain should you choose to back out. But I challenge you regardless. Are you somehow afraid of me?"

The warrior woman spit and stood, drawing her longsword. "I'm not going to pull my hits for you, little elf. If I cut you in half, your ladies better leave me the hell alone." Aegis didn't like this, and reached out to grasp Xan's shoulder, but the enchanter warded her off with naught but an icy glare. "It is not their right to stop me, or to take vengeance. But you are not going to beat me, Shar-Teel."

"Bold words," she snarled at him. "Fine. You're on. Let's see how your cute mage armor holds up to _me_." She gestured over to the battle arena. Xan nodded and accompanied her, drawing out his Moonblade and murmuring in draconic to cast boons and protections over himself.

Branwen frowned worriedly, stepping close to the chosen battleground to watch. Xan's best protections had an extraordinarily limited duration as she understood it, but then so did Xan. After sparring with him she knew something of his capabilities. If he could beat Shar-Teel, he would need to do it quickly. Branwen desperately hoped that if anything happened to him, she'd be able to get to him in time.

The rest of the party gathered around curiously, confused about how this would play out. "Edwin!" complained Imoen. "Edwin, I want to see!"

"Hush, Monkey," he answered.

"No! Jackal, go harass him, please!"

The bat leaped forward to do just that, but when he reached Edwin he snatched him clear out of the air and dismissed him to the hells without a second thought.

"_Hey_!" she protested. "You- you- Augh, you _meanie_! I'm going to throw a tantrum at you!"

* * *

The elf managed one final spell.

Then Shar-Teel was on him. Xan darted out from under the first swing almost casually, moving with both precision and excellent timing. She followed up with a second slash, but he dodged this as well. In fact, he dodged, darted and flitted away from every blow until he'd clearly annoyed the hell out of her.

"Fight, you little coward!" she snapped. He obliged her. The next time she struck at him, he parried with his Moonblade, sent her blow wide by scarcely more than an inch, and sliced into her hand. She used her dagger to take a swipe at him, but he side-stepped this attack and and ducked swiftly under her sword arm. As he did so he turned his sword, dragging it out along her splint and sending shards of metal flying. Shar-Teel shrieked, whirling on him, but he was already gone. He was behind her again, following her back and drawing another slice open in her armor.

Turning about, trying to get at him, she wasmet only with irritation. When she abruptly changed direction on him she ducked, swatting low and backhanding at him with her sword. The elf, if he had been observed in slow motion, would have been seen to lean upon her elbow as she struck, falling backwards over it with a curl and flipping immediately back onto his feet. He darted back from her next attack and she shouted in anger.

"Stand STILL!"

Again, remarkably, Xan obliged her. He held his ground as she rushed to her feet. Her next sword blow was deflected wide as Xan shifted to the side and pushed the tip of his Moonblade up along her arm. This time he left a ribbon of red behind.

Hurting her was less important than getting the hilt of his sword into place, because Xan knew she would immediately follow up with her dagger. Reversing the momentum of his strike, Xan dragged the hilt of the Moonblade horizontally into the oncoming dagger, cutting open her upper arm and catching the dagger blade in his crosspiece. He stepped backwards with a twist of his weapon's hilt, and her dagger was wrenched out of her hand.

Xan was still very small beside her, however, and he made an incredibly tempting target.

Furious that he'd drawn blood, much less disarmed her, Shar-Teel took an unarmed wipe at him. Her off-handed punch came at the same time she was trying to get more control over the fight by pulling her longsword up high against the Moonblade. But Xan once more proved either more agile than she, more insightful, or perhaps just better prepared. The elf stepped very low under the punch, twirling slightly. As he rose again and she fell forward with the motion of the punch, he jammed his elbow hard into her solar plexus.

Releasing her sword with a gasp of surprise, Shar-Teel grabbed Xan' sword arm by the wrist with her main hand. Her off-handed arm wrapped hard about his frail body. His turn had brought his back to face her, and in a grapple there was no way he could be a victor. She'd tear him apart with her bare hands! She'd-

Xan was ambidextrous. He had winded Shar-Teel badly and this kept her from exercising the full brunt of her strength. As if anticipating every action, he tossed his Moonblade to his opposite hand, caught the weapon in a stabbing grip, turned the tip neatly backwards, and plunged it into her body. He was even strong enough to use his partially-restrained hand to grasp the hilt and apply additional force.

The whole party heard the sounds of tearing metal and punctured flesh.

Shar-Teel sputtered in astonishment. Without ado, Xan leaned back into her and used that leverage to pull his blade free. Shocked and winded, the fighter stumbled to the ground behind him, clutching at her belly wound as her intestines threatened to spill out. Xan glanced back at her thoughtfully. Then he calmly cleaned off his sword, sheathed it, and walked back to the rest of the party.

"Thank you for not taking that opportunity from me, friends," he told his stunned companions. "I confess to appreciating it." Then he walked past them and went to go sit alone some distance from the party, that he might collect himself.

"What just happened?" Imoen demanded. "Edwin, un-blind me!"

Edwin glanced up back at her. "Our mouse roars like a lion," he answered. Then his eyes opened wide, because he had just realized how far _back_ from the fight he had left his Monkey. There was a red-scaled lizard scarcely two feet away from her, basking on the sand, its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth. "Imoen. Don't... _move_."

"Why?" she asked, flinging out her arms in exasperation. The basilisk twitched, lifting its head to look at her. "I can't believe you left me blind through that entire fight! Xan is like my best girlfriend ever and he won and I didn't get to see anything!"

Minsc was quite astounded at Xan's performance but, then again, the elf did have an incredibly glowy sword. "Boo _wishes_ he could roar like a lion," the Rashemi murmured happily. Viconia frowned after the enchanter, perplexed, before turning to hurry up alongside Shar-Teel. The fighter was absolutely stunned and stared after Xan in something resembling horror, hardly daring to believe this had happened.

A lightning bolt exploded across party vision. It nearly hit Branwen, who was trying to get to Xan, and quickly earned the attention of almost everyone else. Imoen, to her credit, didn't move. Her eyes went wide, and she stared out blindly at nothing. Edwin hurried up beside her to the dismayed complaints of his party members. He waved away smoke and nudged the basilisk with his foot. Definitely dead.

"Is everything alright?" Aegis called, looking at the basilisk worriedly.

"A minor oversight," he called back to the team. "I shall keep a closer eye on the waif."

"It was after my ankles," Imoen squeaked. "I can't _see_! Edwin, un-blind me!"

"I am _not_ un-blinding you," he muttered angrily. "If you had made eye-contact while we were all turned away, you could well be dead right now you insipid fool!"

"Oh yeah? Well... well you suck at being responsible for another person!" she told him in frustration, a heat rising in her face because of how helpless she felt. "You were supposed to be watching me! You said you would! But you left me alone, didn't you?!"

Edwin looked at her incredulously. Then a wry grin twisted across her face. The grin stretched and stretched and finally he broke out laughing. He put a hand to his face, shaking his head as he did so. Imoen gaped in the direction of his voice. When the moment had passed, he leaned over and murmured softly in draconic. A few seconds later, Imoen felt a rush of tiny wings as Jackal and the other infernal bats were summoned back into the world, and the swarm roosted all over her.

{I did,} he admitted, and clawed fingertips settled briefly in her hair.

* * *

_Gorion watched in silence as the dagger was discharged and the souls within were given unto Lathander. He could not rest until he had seen the ritual for himself. He had not spoken a word but to the Bhaalspawn children, and he knew each and every one of their names. When Lullorin was done, he bowed his head and took in a few shuddering breaths. She came up beside him and placed a hand on his arm._

_"They are with my god now," she told him. "Our gambit has paid off. Those souls are with one whom can bring out their true splendor, and make of them great things." He looked at her weakly. "I... I know. I know. But we must remember they are the children of a god, and they work very differently than mortal babes. We have done all that our resources permitted us to do... I suppose we can only hope for better paths to open to us in the future."_

_"I could sense it," he whispered. "The abyssal taint. Different then it is in tieflings... So much more powerful, so much more consumptive... They were being devoured by it. Slowly. _

_"Were..." she hesitated. "Were any of them... close? Close to being salvageable?"_

_Gorion was quiet a long moment. Then he shook his head. "Whatever those cultists were doing to them, they... those little ones whom could speak... they spoke of wanting to eat one another... They spoke of blood..." He shuddered. "No. They were all the worst. If there were less tainted children they... they had already been sacrificed..."_

_"If their souls were with their siblings, perhaps they too were saved," Lullorin tried to reassure him. "It will be awhile before we find our next lead. Do you wish for teleportation magic to return to your adventuring party on the coast?"_

_"Right now," he murmured, "I just want to be surrounded by... by noise."_

_"The others should be at the tavern," she told him. "Come, let us get a glass of something strong. Not wine; wine is for celebrations."_

* * *

_It took more shots than one might have expected before Gorion began to calm down. Tallix came up and took his side, and asked him about things that had absolutely nothing to do with Bhaalites. She asked him what his family was like, how he knew Khelben Blackstaff, and what the weather was like where he lived. The conversation would have seemed forced had it not come from a halfling, and as much as Tallix might have been a raunchy old hag he still found himself smiling at her efforts and talking with her. She left him alone after a bit. _

_Halftyril was staring angrily at a mug of ale, as if mentally chastising it for not making him drunk. He preferred the flavor of ale to any other drink, if Gorion remembered, but despaired at its lack of potency. Harus was weaving back and forward after a single cup of mead. The sun elf looked up at his partner in amusement and then leaned over the table and tugged the druid forward by the cloak to kiss him._

_A few nearby elves were incredibly offended. Gorion sighed, watching as a ridiculously overblown bar fight broke out. Tables went flying through the air, ale was spilled, and butts were quite literally kicked. The magus shook his head and looked back to the bar. Ahead of him, the tender was watching with a slack jaw and a look of incredulity on his face. "Don't mind him," Gorion said. "He'll pay for the damages. And he's very accurate about not hitting any alcohol stores." The tender winced and then sighed and poured Gorion another shot._

_Gorion took it, and drained it. Lullorin glanced over at him and then reached up to rub his back. "How are you feeling?" she asked him, trying to ignore their eccentric sun elf. Tallix was no doubt placing bets with other inn-goers. Winthrop was keeping an eye on Gorion from a distance and sticking to a mild grog so he'd be more clear-headed than the magus._

_"I wanted to thank you," Gorion told the cleric. "Your concern... it means a lot to me."_

_"Anything you need, Rion," she told him. "Would you like to take a walk with me in a bit? The night air might help."_

_He nodded, smiling softly. "I'd like that."_

_Haftyril walked back to his table, rapidly dusting his hands off against one another, with half of a wrecked tavern behind him and one incredibly spooked innkeeper dangling by his trousers from a candelabra. Harus looked absolutely mortified, and was wincing slightly at all the mayhem. "Was... was that entirely necessary?" the druid mumbled._

_Haftyril considered the question. "Am I ever?" he asked aloud. Then he smiled and leaned over with a seductive smile on his face, beaming happily down at his companion. "Let us get out from under so many eyes."_

_"Not until you pay for the trouble you've caused," the half-orc told him sternly. And then hiccuped. The sun elf chuckled and kissed his brow._

_"As you wish, my dear," he told his partner in a low and sultry voice. Then he stood and gleefully hopped over to where the innkeeper was dangling. He tugged on the man's foot. "So, how much do I owe you? And don't tell me you're kicking me out unless you want me to buy the whole inn."_

* * *

Imoen politely refrains from mentioning that if Dynaheir was her teacher, she probably wouldn't have left the girl alone and blind. In Edwin's defense, it may not have registered that Kivan had left the area.

I sincerely doubt Edwin has ever been responsible for anyone other than himself in his entire life.

Tubby!? Edwin is not Tubby! Slightly fluffy around the edges, _maybe..._! ;)  
But then Mulan ethnic people are _supposed_ to be slender to the point of being almost gaunt... And nearly hairless. They almost always shave their heads. Shar-Teel seems pretty worldly and identifies at least two other peoples' ethnicity. Hmmmmmm...


	24. Play Fighting

Play Fighting

..

* * *

It had been a long, hot day with little tree cover. There was dust, sweat, and blood in their clothing With the constant threat of petrification and last night's assassinations attempts fresh on their minds, it was no wonder the party members were tense and sharp-tempered by the time they slogged back to camp.

Which made the spring everyone's destination of choice.

The spring spilled out from a series of petite waterfalls into deep pools divvied up by black rock formations. The water was delightfully chilled in contrast to the hot dusty conditions they'd endured earlier. Mossy and sheltered by large willows, the spring provided a good opportunity for everyone to relax and tend to their wounds.

"Women keep to the east pool," Aegis pointed, because not everyone could tell their east from their west like a ranger, "men to the west pool. Edwin."

The conjurer smirked over Imoen's head where he was finally restoring her vision. "Invisibility it is then," he drawled.

"Watch it, they've got a Shar-Teel," Aegis smirked. The newly recruited fightress seemed to appreciate the mention, and glowered quietly at Edwin as if daring him. "Kivan and I are going to scout out our surroundings and make sure we're not going to get any nasty surprises this evening. Absolutely no one is allowed to die while I'm gone."

"I can see!" Imoen squealed abruptly. "I can see, I can see!"

Edwin flinched at her volume. {Yes, and my ears are no doubt in quite some danger if your excitement on the matter continues.}

{I hate you!} she announced, grabbing the collar of Edwin's robes and jerked his head down an inch to look at her. {Never do that again!} the thief chastised him. He smacked her hands away irritably and leered at her.

{Monkey, you will learn _Protection from Petrification _this evening so I do not need to further endure your whining.}

Dynaheir scowled at where she was settling her pack down and picking out fresh clothing. "You ask much, Thayvian, to expect-"

"And I will take no critique from you!" he whirled on the witch angrily. "Do not speak to me or her of spellcraft and be silent!"

"Okay, guys," Aegis interposed herself between the two feuding wizards. "Relaxy time now. Edwin. Dynaheir. Imoen. Okay?"

Edwin muttered bitterly but then nodded, and the two genders split off in their separate ways. Aegis listened to make sure no fighting broke out. Then she heaved a big sigh and turned her gaze to Kivan. The elf was removing his blindfold.

[I cannot endure that drow much longer,] he told her. [She is driving me to madness. I came upon her in a clearing where she was about to topple a statue out of malice. Yet three times on our return journey she attempted to speak with me.]

Aegis knew Viconia ran hot and cold, and could imagine her throwing a fit at a statue; but Kivan was clearly a biased informant. [I'm sorry,] was all she could tell him. [I'll talk to her later.]

He grimaced and she could see from his posture he was struggling to contain himself. He looked up and off in the distance, and for a moment he seemed a construct of nothing but rage and willpower. .

Suddenly Aegis remembered a tattered man kneeling before the gates of the Candlekeep Fortress, arrows in his shoulder and a look of silent determination in his eyes; as her father begged Ulraunt to make just one exception to the library's rules and let the dying man within their walls. She remembered the waking death that followed him like a cloud, like a scent.

_Can't be. Impossible. That was over fifteen years ago._

Then Kivan was gone and the vision with him, disappearing off into the forest. Aegis stared after him in open disbelief for a long moment. Then she shook her head and then turned to circle away from the springs.

* * *

The women in Aegis' party were not shy people; They were quite happy to strip down and drop themselves into the welcoming pool. They bathed and laundered clothing, and splashed each other. Nearly a half hour of winding down under the creaking willows put them all in better moods.

"I can't remember any of us ever really arguing with each other," Dynaheir noted abruptly.

Viconia thought about this as the Wychlaran braided her pearly hair. "Shar-Teel's right. Let's ditch the men."

Branwen cleaned out her hair of dust and rocks by ducking under. Then she irritably tried to get water out of her left ear. "We're keeping Xan." The rest of the other women deliberated and then agreed the enchanter could stay.

Dynaheir began rubbing and washing her own feet, and was pleasantly surprised when Viconia offered to do it for her. "Well," the witch added, "I also need Minsc." One by one the women vouched for keeping each one of their men, with Viconia insisting on Kagain for killing things and Ajantis to provide entertainment. They assumed Aegis had adopted Kivan, which left them with only one male to dump.

"No!" Imoen coughed, still not feeling well. "Edwin is mine!"

Viconia groaned. "Child, you undervalue yourself, annoying as you are. Take the paladin's virginity; gods know it would do him some good."

Imoen's brows furrowed. "Wait. What?"

The dark elf lifted a brow. "You _aren't_ servicing the Thayvian?"

"Viconia!" Dynaheir protested disapprovingly.

Branwen elbowed the gaping Imoen. "Viccy hasn't caught on that people can share rooms without sex yet," the Norheimer teased. "Wait till we tell her about Dyn and Minsc; she'll never believe us."

"I think I need to vomit now," the thief told them, looking violated.

"I'll hold your hair!" Branwen offered cheerfully. "Wait a minute. Where is Shar-Teel?"

The thief had a horrible thought. She slowly looked up to see Shar-Teel lounging comfortably on a large black rock up twenty feet in the air, eating an apple and looking down into the mens' side of the spring. Edwin, as it turned out, was the least of Aegis' worries.

* * *

Ajantis jumped in surprise at the whistle which pierced the air. The paladin smeared damp hair out of his face and looked up towards the origin of the sound. His jaw dropped in horror at the five naked women peering mischievously down at him from high atop the rocks. The high angle and their supine positions were, mercifully, keeping anything _feminine_ from view. But Ajantis himself was quite naked.

"Merciful gods," the man ask grimly of the heavens, "what have I done to offend you?" He considered stalking off to get his longsword, or perhaps simply covering himself with his hands. After a moment he heaved a great sigh, turned away from the women, and valiantly tried to ignore them. Helm would have been proud.

"Hey boys!" Shar-Teel called. "Water sure is _clear_, ain't it?"

Xan had been working the braids out of his hair and settling them in a neat little pile along with a comb and some hair soap. At the sound of the woman's voice he yelped, sliding off a rock he'd been sitting on and disappearing with a plop under the water. The waterfall ripples kept him from sight. Branwen tensed, wondering if he'd hit his sweet head; but he resurfaced a moment later, gaping up at them in horror.

Minsc simultaneously whirled about, and a chorus of whistles greeted him. He gaped at the women for a moment, and then a blush crept up in his cheeks. It was safe to say that this had never happened to him before but, after a moment, he was grinning quite broadly. "Hello, pretty ladies!" He waved with innocent enthusiasm, and Dynaheir stifled a giggle with her hand. He was _adorable _and never disheartened. She felt such affection for him then, as ever.

Edwin, who was bathing with his cloak enchanted against liquids and tied about his waist, lifted an irritable brow up at the women. "You know, if _we _did this to you, you would be trying to kill us," he complained. "Dynaheir, girl, scoot forward _just_ a bit so we can see you better-"

"Hah!" Shar-Teel interrupted. "We were just about to vote you off the team, wizard! Why don't you show us why we shouldn't, eh?"

The Red Wizard looked appalled; but Imoen noticed he had a hint of a wolfish grin about him, as if he knew something they didn't and expected his revenge to be close at hand.

"Ahem," came a voice from beside the women. The five of them looked up and then shrieked. Kagain, in all his nude, hairy, and battle-scarred glory, had climbed up onto the wall beside them. Screaming in horror and alarm, half the girls abandoned ship immediately in a flailing of legs and arms; sliding down or even leaping off the rocks back into the water. The few remaining stared dumbfounded.

Kagain broke out laughing, shouting after Shar-Teel for being all talk and no liver. When she shouted obscenities up at him, he became quite vulgar, and they could hear Imoen screaming: 'My eyes! My eyes! I want to be blind again!'

Viconia glanced down at Edwin, who was grinning haughtily. Amused, she turned a sultry look back on their dwarvish companion. "Kagain, since you're feeling so enthusiastic... Why don't you and I go find a quiet place to have an _experiment_," she purred. Edwin's eyes widened.

Branwen took this moment to scramble off of the landing. Unfortunately, she overbalanced, and fell into the men's side just inches shy of squashing Ajantis. Kagain turned to Viconia in surprise, looking her up and down. Then he laughed uncertainly. "Ya's not the right look for a dwarf lass," he told her.

"Viconia!" Edwin snarled, sloshing up to the cliff side and glaring at her.

His anger was all the incentive the drowess needed. "Well, you've not the right look for a drow," she answered Kagain luridly, creeping across the landing towards her prey and earning a horrified and guttural noise from Edwin. "I _did_ say it would be a... _experiment_."

"You bluffing, sick, sadistic temptress," Edwin spat, because Viconia had most certainly won this round and he knew it, but he also wanted to continue looking at her in the future without thinking of a naked dwarf and gagging.

* * *

Branwen surfaced, coughing out water. Ajantis gave her a few firm pats on the back until she could breathe again. She thanked him, paused, and looked him up and down. Then a heat rose in her face. "Wow," she complemented. Ajantis jumped and then looked embarrassed down at the water, a small smile on his face. Branwen grinned dumbly a moment before remembering where she was.

Glancing around she caught sight of her enchanter, who was a mess of limp brown hair with his knees drawn up against his chest. He was staring agape at the cliff. Concerned, Branwen quickly swam to join him. He didn't notice her until she was only a few feet away, and then he jumped slightly and his eyes went even wider.

"Keep away! Keep! Away!" he shrieked, turning his face away and holding out his hands to fend her off.

"Otch, take it easy," Branwen exclaimed, retreating a few inches behind one of the rocks. "Was just checking to see if you were okay."

"Get out! Get out!" He refused to look at her. "West pool; east pool; different!"

Branwen was a little perplexed because Xan had not been abused by a woman. "Sorta baffled me that you were okay around... Eh, never mind." Xan was hurt and didn't have to make sense. "I was just worried. I'll- I'll go now."

Xan seized up all of a sudden, turning his head to stare at her. Beneath a cascade of limp brown hair, his cyan eyes were wide and bright and horrified. "No," he whimpered.

The cleric paused. "No?"

"No, no," he mumbled, grasping the rocks and paddling a little closer to her. "Don't leave, don't leave, don't..." He paused and looked up at her like he was going to start crying. "Help me," he whimpered. "H-help-!"

Alarmed, Branwen pushed herself to his side and, as had become habit, she lifted her hands and grasped his face between her palm to press his ears shut. Xan's eyes rolled up in his head and his eyelids closed as he began muttering and whispering in elvish and draconic.

Branwen heard the telltale sounds of a fireball behind her followed by shrieks, splashes, curses, and feminine laughter. There was definitely a, "Go for the eyes-!" in there somewhere, lots of shouting, and even more laughter. Branwen eased the elf back onto a shallow stone. "It's okay," she whispered gently over his head.

There was sloshing behind her as someone approach them. "Is he alright?" Ajantis asked, obviously concerned.

Branwen didn't answer him yet, breathing softly into her enchanter's hair. "It's okay, Xan, you're going to be fine-"

The enchanter's lids twitched rapidly; then his eyelashes fluttered open there was naught but purple _fire_ to be seen between them. The noises of her party members cut off with startling abruptness. Branwen stiffened and twisted about to look behind her. Then a guffaw burst out from her chest as she realized what had just happened.

* * *

Kivan had heard all of the commotion. When the elf arrived back at the bathing pools, he came down from the rocks that composed the spring and waterfalls, and so he had a clear and immediate birds-eye view of how at least half the party was trapped in a particularly vicious _Hold Person_ spell.

Viconia was standing on one of the stone ridges only a few feet ahead of him, a laugh frozen on her face. Kagain had just barely gotten his head back out of the water again after falling into a pool. Dynaheir and Shar-Teel had entered the western pool but were both paralyzed mid-motion. The fighter had a sword in hand, Dynaheir looked to be caught mid-chant, and the later was encircled in some magic golden shield. Minsc had fallen over mid-leap and was resting on an angle against the cliff-face. It seemed Ajantis had been doing nothing more insidious than bathing himself.

Stepping forward, Kivan caught sight of Branwen carrying Xan piggyback up to the shoreline. A freshly-dressed Imoen hopped up to join them. "He froze everyone!" the pink girl laughed excitedly. "How is that even possible!? Oh, poor Xan! We're so _sorry_!"

Kivan frowned. Then he turned his gaze back on Viconia. If he waited, he would be able to push the dark elf off the edge of the cliff and allow the paralysis to quietly drown her. He took some time to consider if there were any reasons he should not do so.

Earlier that day, Kivan had found Viconia snarling and cursing at a statue, talking aloud about how she should smash it to bits. He had warned her away from it with an arrow. Afterwards, he'd lifted his bandanna to find she'd been targeting a petrified _elf_. That transgression would have been enough for him to end her if not for the tolerance he'd witnessed between her and Xan.

* * *

As Imoen was gathering up clothing, she heard some form of delayed contingency spell go off. Curious about what had just happened, the thief hurried over to have a look then smiled as a thoroughly irritated looking Thayvian trudged his way to dry land.

"The _enchanter_," Edwin hissed up at Imoen.

"Hello, Edwin!" Imoen beamed. "Have a nice bath?"

He glowered at her. She beamed at him. A moment passed in tense grumpiness and blithe amusement. Then a sudden tenseness overtook Imoen's throat and she flinched, clutching her chest and coughing. The coughs didn't stop at one or two, and a few seconds later she could feed Edwin stabilizing her shoulder as she hacked out a few dried flecks of blood.

"Wh-what...?" she mumbled.

"You healed a little roughly," Edwin reminded her, frowning. Then he glanced around at the suspended party members. There was no sight of Branwen, and Xan had probably shielded her from his assault. Whether Imoen had been far enough away to get lucky in resisting the spell or Xan had shielded her as well was a matter of some debate; Dynaheir had not been given the same courtesy.

The Thayvian's gazed locked on the witch. Dynaheir had been attacking him when Xan's mass _Hold Person_ had fallen. While it was true he'd been throwing fire at Viconia, he'd hardly intended to seriously injure the drow. And yet he'd been set upon by two Rashemi and a man-hater with a naked sword._  
_

Edwin lifted a hand towards the witch, considering the best way to dispel her protective golden shield as Imoen recovered. Anger boiled up in his expression. When Monkey finally righted herself she looked at him in surprise and glanced briefly at his quarry. "Edwin?" she asked, looking uncertainly up into his face.

The Red Wizard looked slowly down at his protege, recalling her nearness. If he chose to put an acid arrow through Dynaheir's skull at point blank range, with Imoen standing right beside him, there was nothing he'd ever be able to say to convince her it had been in self defense. Briefly he lamented restoring her vision; but then she had prevented him from acting rashly. _Patience. _He lowered his hand. _It is not easy to both feed the wolf and keep whole the lamb*._

"Well," Imoen decided after a brief pause. "_I_ had a lovely bath."

* * *

"... What happened to him?" Kivan asked as he placed down Xan's bedroll. The enchanter was rapidly mumbling everything from words of devotion to the Seldarine to meditative recitations. Branwen had a hand over one of his ears and had pressed his other into her hair. The Moon Elf was crushing her fingers against the side of his face to keep her there. He seemed lost to the world.

"Spent three months underground being tortured by a half-orc," she explained as the two of them carefully sat the enchanter down. She paused briefly, and took this moment to gently touch the enchanter's ribs and collar bone. "Good. He's putting on weight... His skin was as thin as paper a month ago."

Kivan shuddered slightly. "Can he hear us?" the ranger asked as Branwen snatched up her pack. She had some extra clothes for Xan, but she threw on a chemise and donned fresh trousers while she was at it.

"Not really, he-" Within moments of losing contact with her, Xan's eyes flew open and he shrieked her name, grabbing at his face and hair in a panic and clawing open his skin. Kivan snatched the enchanter's arms to keep him from accidentally hurting his own eyes.

Branwen cursed, tossing his fresh clothing to the ground kneeling at the enchanter's side. She covered each of his ears and he shuddered, leaning his head back into her.

"You're okay," she whispered to him. "You're okay. You are having a fit, but you are going to be okay." Xan looked dazedly up at her, trying to steady his breathing. As she murmured for a minor healing orison, his gaze slowly lolled and drifted about the camp. Then his eyelids fluttered rapidly and he seemed to come back to himself, reaching modestly for the spare clothing.

"Are these for...?" he mumbled.

"Aye," she answered, releasing his head. He seemed okay. After a moment he nodded to himself and then shakily dressed with their help. "Xan? By the way, that fight earlier with Shar-Teel? 'Twas beautiful," she told him.

"Oh?" he asked bitterly, pulling up the trousers a leg at the time. "Was it not Loki-spawned tricks and cheating? I wore no real armor. I worked with artificial strength."

"I _normally _call on my god's Divine Favor," she reminded him, confused where this was coming from. When he didn't answer, she lifted a brow and sat back an inch, looking over him. "I... I didn't follow wherever your head went, little man. You want to run that by me again more slowly... or should I leave you alone for a bit?"

Xan hesitated as he got the tunic over his head. He looked over and back at her as if to take stock of her state of dress. Then he shifted up against her side and reached out to slip an arm around hers. He leaned his head into her shoulder. "No, sweet _Nildoen-nin_. Sit with me as I sort out my thoughts. Perhaps my head is too filled with other peoples' words."

"Ajantis'?" she asked, having noticed the two had been arguing. "Shar-Teel's? ...Or Viconia's?" Xan didn't answer, and Kivan sneered, standing up and glaring irritably out into the forest. Branwen glanced up at the Wild Elf and then looked back to her enchanter. "What did Viccy say to you, Xan? I never got a clear answer out of either of you; Just that it had to do with you and I sharing a room."

"She went on for some time about how after you grow bored of coddling me, you will expect a more _physical_ relationship. And that when that happens, she advised I submit and indulge you. I thought I handled myself very well, actually, until she began discussing my libido in terms of slaves she'd trained. Then I fear I did lose my temper."

"Ah." The Norheimer considered that. Maybe if she'd been younger. "Did you tell her we are just friends?" Branwen asked.

"Hard as she tries, I'm afraid Viconia struggles to comprehend innocent relationships," Xan told her, "and she has only the Underdark to fall back on when her surface experiences prove insufficient."

Branwen rubbed gently over the enchanter's back. He looked like he needed some reassurance. "I'm not going to lie to you and say your looks and wizarding haven't grown on me. But I enjoy looking out for you, Xan. I don't need more, so don't let Viccy get to you."

He tensed slightly. "You used the word 'need.' Do you _want_ more?"

"Oi," Branwen let out a big breath, thinking about this. "Xan, sometimes I honestly think you could be complemented on your eyes, and then curl up in self-hatred wondering how you could ever possibly live up to your future wife's expectations for you. The tiniest reminder that you _might_ at some point in the future feel pressured into something you'll _possibly_ fail at; that puts you to melancholy."

Kivan looked back at them. Xan grimaced to himself, glaring at the dirt. "You say that like logic can help. Like I can just _know_ that about myself and through doing so somehow calm down or dislodge the thoughts from my head-"

"But it doesn't," Branwen agreed. "I punch people and feel better; but the things that crawl into your head get stuck there. I... I don't know how to help you. Maybe you need to figure out how you vent best. Or maybe you need to keep a journal?"

Xan slowly looked up at her.

"You feel pressure from everywhere around you, I think. It builds up and doesn't leave you. Every expectation, every possibility for failure, every teeny-tiny thing you can't address right this second, it overwhelms you. All the time."

She was right, and the journal was a good idea; but now a thought _was_ stuck in his head and it wouldn't leave him alone: "You... you didn't answer my question. About whether you wanted more of me."

Branwen shrugged. "Wherever you lead, wizard, is fine with me. You come first; so you need to pave the way."

Xan stared at Branwen. For a moment, everything felt bizarrely quiet. Then he realized his mind felt _still_. Words and thoughts weren't surging around in painful cycles. "I..." he murmured, his voice cracking. "I have... I have known you but scant weeks... "

Branwen murmured sympathetically, wrapping both arms around him. Kivan watched quietly, giving them their moment together. "Take it easy. It's getting cold out and you're still wet, so I'm going to bundle you up, feed you, and do your hair. And then I think you need some sleep."

He made a face. "Must you treat me like a child, exactly?"

She laughed. "I don't! I treat you like an absolutely adorable, sassy, flighty man, with a voice like caramel," she told him, leaning over and nuzzling into his hair as she embraced him, "and eyes the color of bright lagoon water- Xan?" she pulled back because she could feel his heart racing as he took in a sharp breath. "Oi. Xan, I'm sorry."

He tilted his head back to look up at her, breathing hard. Then he chuckled. "No... No, _N-nildoen nin_... D-do not apologize. I am... I am fine. _I_ was the one digging for a reaffirmation of my... my masculinity... and you but attempted to supply it."

"Do you find 'adorable' an acceptable affirmation?" she asked.

"Well. I am an elf. And I am short. I might even accept 'gorgeous' although I draw the line at 'pretty.' 'Pretty' is right out, I warn you now."

Branwen kissed his forehead. "What about dainty?"

He pouted. "We are attempting to _reaffirm_ my masculinity, not obliterate it."

"But look at your hands compared to mine!" she pressed her fingers to his. Xan regarded them and then huffed. "You are dainty. You are the daintiest person I've ever met," she teased. "And if you need _words_ to counterbalance your daintiness, I can whisper them in your ears all day."

He heaved a dramatic sigh. "Very well. Take 'dainty' you cold, unfeeling woman; I shall give it to you. I shall be as tea coasters and princesses and hair pins."

"Elegant," she stroked his fragile ego. "Handsome. Courageous." Xan choked in disbelief. "Brave, heroic, devoted, loyal, dutiful, magnificent, brilliant, graceful, pointed, snarky, pragmatic, noble, sensible, cautious, careful, precise, accurate, efficient, caring, compassionate-"

"Branwen," he whimpered affectionately.

She kissed his forehead again. "You need to meditate again for a bit," she told him. "Don't worry, I won't be far."

* * *

It took the better part of a half hour before the majority of party could finally move again. Minsc fell forward onto his face. Shar-Teel did likewise. Dynaheir discharged a _Miscast Magic_ into the air. Ajantis looked around in bafflement, and Kagain splashed and sputtered about stupid wizards.

Viconia broke down laughing. A moment later, Dynaheir joined her. Shar-Teel surfaced, shouting obscenities, and the witch helped her up to her feet, still laughing. "Well, Xan certainly showed _us_."

"That damn little elfin pip-squeak did _this_?" Shar-Teel snarled, looking spooked. This was the second time that day in which the enchanter had 'beaten' her.

Minsc sloshed through the water to join them and though Shar-Teel looked him up and down shamelessly, the Rashemi berserker ignored her and came directly up to Dynaheir. He held out a very wet Boo. Though her companion's nudity was a little awkward, Dynaheir obliged his mute request and reached out to magically dry off Boo, whose fur puffed out in all directions.

The ranger smiled. Then he shuffled closer, leaned over, and pressed a very hesitant kiss at her temple. "Boo wonders... if... if there was maybe a... a _r-reason_ the Fiesty One was staring?" he asked shyly. Dynaheir turned scarlet. Shar-Teel raised a brow.

"Minsc, I..." Dynaheir hesitated.

"Are you kidding me?" Shar-Teel asked with loud disbelief. "If you don't do _something_ with this overly masculine meat slab, the testosterone is gonna stink up the whole camp. Don't make me do it for you. Now, I am going to go pummel the shit out of a loud-mouthed dwarf. 'Scuse me," the fightress turned to do just that. Viconia only laughed harder.

* * *

When Aegis finally got back to camp, she was carrying a boar on her shoulders. She looked suspiciously around at her party. "Alright, who killed who?" she asked.

"Why, no one killed anyone!" Branwen grinned sweetly. "What would make you say that?" Then her jaw dropped when she saw the hog. "Pork!" she squealed. Kagain looked up from polishing his axe and whooped. Shar-Teel was taking a drink of ale, but did a victory gesture to share her enthusiasm.

"Food later!" Viconia scolded the other cleric. "I shall not be left here entangled such before you have adequately described to me what it is I am doing!" Branwen had been teaching the drow to braid, and this of course meant that Viconia had been drafted into helping with Xan's hair. Someone had made a nest for the enchanter, and he was nearly lost in blankets as he read his spellbook by firelight. If Xan had been at all uncomfortable with Viconia touching his hair, clearly the problem had already been ironed out.

Kivan was fletching arrows, but he didn't appear to even be looking at what he was doing. He was watching Viconia as if each and every last remaining arrow were intended for her and her alone.

Noticeably absent from the braiding scene were Imoen and Dynaheir. The first was with Edwin, which said something about how the otherwise inapproachable Thayvian had managed to hook on to her interest in magic; but the latter was nowhere to be seen. Edwin was leaning against a tree at the edge of his bedroll and using a light spell to study by. Imoen was plopped horizontally beside him, leaning her back against his knees, and turning a scroll upside-down as she tried to make sense of it.

"Where's Dyn?" Aegis asked, coming up and settling the boar down before the fire.

"The spring," Ajantis answered. "Don't go there."

"Why not?"

Shar-Teel laughed. "Because they're fucking like animals, and the pally's a prude that's why," she grinned nastily. Ajantis shook his head, sighing at her vulgarity.

Aegis smirked. "I'd been wondering about that. Good for them, then."

"We are _surrounded_ by women with _bad taste_, this evening," Edwin muttered, turning a page in his spellbook. Aegis glanced at him and wondered what had him in such a bad mood when the rest of the party members looked calm and rested. Then she shrugged and set to finishing the dressing of her kill.

"Can I borrow Imoen, Edwin?" The pink girl perked up, looking about.

"No. Monkey is studying," he groused, not even looking up at her.

"She's got a pack filled with cooking gear and spices," Aegis countered.

Edwin glanced at Imoen, who placed the scroll on her head like a hat. "I'm hungry," she told him. "I can't focus. Do you think it will sink in this way?"

He sighed and waved her off.

* * *

_When Gorion awoke, he found himself warm and comfortable, with the most beautiful sprawl of golden hair draped across his chest. His leg's were entangled with another person's. _

_Abruptly he was reminded of a very embarrassing tavern experience in which, though both had been fully clothed, he had awoken snuggled in a similar predicament with Haftyril. And this time he was naked! He sat up quickly in a sleepy daze to determine exactly what had happened._

_Lullorin. T__he light poured in softly through the inn windows, bringing with it memories of the evening before, and dancing radiantly across her yellow hair. He sagged back against the pillows with a sigh of relief. Thoughts did not come to him for awhile. Then he found himself smiling fondly down at her. He lifted a hand and ran it across her brow and crown, and then gently down her shoulder and back.  
_

_He found himself hoping that their meeting had been a start of something more than just grief and comfort._

What do you think, Chai?_ he thought to his familiar. _

_The sugar glider sighed happily from where she was curled up in his robes. _I like her,_ the little creature told him. _She is warm. And almost familiar.

_Gorion nodded, settling back down to hold the sleeping cleric close. Perhaps together they could find some way to extract sanity and closure from the madness of their task. For now he tried to get a little more sleep. He had intended to reunite with his band on the Sword Coast by magic and only return when called on. But now, he thought, perhaps he would be happy to remain. He did not know how he would ever be able to adventure with his usual party with the weight of this task on his shoulders. But in each other, the Bhaal-hunting group could perhaps find light bright enough to hold back the darkness. _

* * *

_*It is not easy to both feed the wolf and keep whole the lamb:_ This is an idiom and not literal. I was inspired by an eastern european/baltic variant of: "To have your cake and eat it too." Edwin is counseling himself to patience in waiting for an ideal moment to act so he doesn't botch fulfilling one of his many goals. **  
**


	25. Reactions

..

There is going to be a brief, two-chapter cameo appearance of a character who otherwise doesn't get enough airtime and would be getting introduced way too close to the end of the story.

I credit the famous fanfiction _In The Cards_ for putting this character in this exact place and therefore inspiring me to do likewise.

* * *

_It had been six months._

_Gorion sighed, comparing the various documents Tallix had sent him and look for clues beyond her considerable expertise. He had managed to uncover an illusory cypher in one, but it was clear the other documents were somehow connected. As he worked, he felt a presence come up behind him in the small villa. Then arms were wrapped about his shoulders from behind, and Lullorin was kissing his cheek._

_"Good morning," she smiled, and he shifted to ease an arm around her middle. "Coffee?"_

_He nodded over at where her mug awaited her. She took it up and settled in on the chair beside him. As he worked he enjoyed her nearness. Both of them were so incredibly busy that neither had much time to spend with the other, but they made due as best as they were able. The villa afforded them a modicum of privacy, and in it they at least attempted to spend their late evenings and early mornings together._

_"Gorion," Lullorin began, a slight mischievousness and also a fierce intensity to her voice. He looked at her, wondering what horrors his 'innocent' lover was about to confess to. The last time he'd heard that tone of voice, it was because Lullorin had grown testy when conversing with a particularly uncompromising noble. She'd picked up a rotten cheese pie from where it was being disposed of, and firmly planted it into the man's face._

_Tallix and Haftyril had dissolved into hysterics. Winthrop's facepalm and Harus's flabbergasted horror had completed the picture quite admirably. The only time he'd ever seen that same expression before that, Lullorin had quite brazenly lifted a jailor's key so that they could free a wrongfully imprisoned ranger who had information they needed about their latest lead. Their halfling had, of course, thrown a celebratory party in honor of their cleric's impromptu thievery._

_"Something on your mind?" he asked. His work was important, but he could always spare a moment._

_"Rion..." she repeated, thinking. Then she smirked. "I am unmistakably pregnant."_

_The aasimar blinked slowly at her for a long moment, as if uncertain he had heard correctly. Then he tensed, dropping paper onto the table as he turned entirely to face her. "You are not going on the next raid," he told her, alarmed._

_Lullorin chuckled at his protectiveness. "Can I get an 'I love you,' or a 'let me rub your back, dear,' or some elvish poetry or-"_

_Gorion was up in a heartbeat, doing all three requested activities and smothering his face into her hair. His cleric laughed, lifting her arms behind her to hug his neck._

_"I am looking for a temporary replacement for my role in the party," she promised him. "I'm nauseous often enough even without carrying a little one around with me."_

_Gorion sighed, momentarily distressed by a thousand fears. Lullorin had a weak stomach and required a vial of medication at least once weekly to help revitalize her and let her eat and drink normally. She relied on Tallix to supply this supplement, and he had an odd sense that he didn't _quite_ want to know what it contained. She didn't volunteer to talk about it, and he didn't ask. _

_"This will be over before the little one is weaned," he said slowly. "You aren't looking for a 'temporary' replacement only. You won't be ready to rejoin us immediately after the baby is born. And you will probably want to remain with him or her afterwards."_

_Lullorin thought about this and nodded. "Very well. Your new cleric may not be of Lathander, then, but I will continue to bless and release the blades on my god's behalf."_

_"I have only one cleric, my sweet Lullaby," he smiled. "You."_

_.._

* * *

The elf paused, ignoring the suds and blinking slowly at the water. Then he lowered the lye carefully to the ledge of the pool and drifted his fingers slowly to the curve of his bow. He was as stone; receptive to sound; motionless. His ears pierced through the rushing of water and the creaking of trees, back to the predatory slowness some distance behind him. He waited as each twitch and crackle spoke volumes on its location.

_Now._

The elf spun and dropped his weight, pulling up bow and arrow and nocking latter to former in the same motion. He had already loosed with his very first exhale of air.

He heard a thud followed up by a human oath. His eyes pierced into the evening gloom, drawing out the human ranger's shape as she stepped out from hiding. Her motions were bold, and she reached up to snap off the fletching from the arrow he'd delivered into her shoulder.

[If you do not think I will down you with the next arrow, then you have misinterpreted my warning shot,] he growled, easing himself up from his crouch. He had a fresh arrow at ready, but Aegis didn't stop walking towards him.

[I just wanted to talk to you,] she answered, dropping down from the the earthy mounds down to the smooth black stone of the spring. There she paused at the strain of his bowstring.

When Aegis straightened up, she saw a cold and merciless expression in Kivan's luminous eyes. Little of him could be seen with the moon at his back. He didn't respond to her words and she frowned, casting aside the arrow fletching and lifting up her hands to show she had neither her primary battleaxe nor indeed any armor. [Kivan, I am unarmed...]

[Camp,] he spat. [Leave.]

[You don't trust me?] she asked in confusion, stepping closer still. She tried not to let any extra distress into her voice. She _needed_ to talk to him! Kivan, fortunately, still gave her the benefit of the doubt and did not fire; but he could not have possibly pulled the longbow any further back than he did so now as he eased into a side-facing stance. Doing so threw moonlight over him, and she caught her breath at the sight of the awful scarring.

[You still harbor drow,] he told her darkly.

Aegis' eyes held his for a moment and then suddenly dropped, running down the length of him. The sight of this made his upper lip curl, but she needed to be sure that her memory wasn't playing tricks on her. Key scars stood out along his shoulder, forearms, belly and legs. She shook her head in disbelief, scarcely aware of where she was. [I couldn't be certain,] she murmured hesitantly, [I needed to-]

[I am a breath away from putting an arrow through your eye.]

She lifted her gaze briefly back to his. Her face carried an expression of awe that did not seem to match the situation. [I've seen you once before. When most of those were fresh,] she explained, looking at the scars in his shoulder in particular.

Kivan nearly loosed the arrow into her skull and killed her. A flicker of mental calculation saved her: she was human and too young to have been among Tazok's bandits. His jaw clenched tightly nonetheless, his fingers tightening on his bow.

[When they took you into Candlekeep Fortress,] she elaborated. [I was watching from the wall, and then I was in the surgery.]

A frown tugged at Kivan's tightly-pressed lips. His arrow did not waver from where he'd trained the tip on her head, but his merciless gaze faltered, his eyes coloring up with memory. A moment later and the archer turned his face fully towards her again, his arched brows furrowing thoughtfully.

[You could not have been. You are too young.]

[I was just a child,] Aegis agreed, reaching behind herself for something at her belt.

Kivan diverted his aim and loosed. At such short range, the arrow went straight through her arm and the head emerged on the other side. Aegis cried out in surprise, staggered by the hit and grabbing at her shoulder above the wound. She looked at the feathers in astonishment. When she lifted her head, the elf had already pointed another arrow at her face.

The Wild Elf said nothing to her. His gaze did not falter, but her wounded expression pierced him strangely. He did not loose another arrow, even as she drew forward whatever item she had gone to reach for in the first place. Wincing slightly, she held it out to him by the handle. At first he was unwilling to move. Then, at the pleading expression which drew her brows, he glanced down for only a second. A hatchet? He did a double-take and frowned, his bow drifting off target.

A silent pause stretched between them. Then Kivan grabbed up bow and arrow in just one hand, reaching forward to grab the offered handle and pulling the axe from her grasp. He stared at it, flipping it over twice as his eyes widened in recognition. He heard her move and his gaze flicked up, his posture twitching defensively as Aegis stepped up to him. She was one and a half times his weight and at least a head taller, and his skin bristled instinctively at the danger she presented. But he held still as her gaze drifted over him once again.

This time, Aegis wasn't entirely looking at his wounds. Kivan was so incredibly _alive_, flesh and blood made concrete from memory. The deathly mantle about him only strengthened the sensation of physical life. The marks in his flesh had utterly disfigured the pigment and texture of his skin, but the ranger was strong, fit, and lithe beneath them. She hadn't realized an elf could put on so much lean muscle weight, and at the same time she marveled that he would look slender against a human of vastly inferior strength and speed.

[You had two arrows in your shoulder, and your clothing was just red and blotched,] she murmured. [You couldn't stand. I remember Immy refused to look and kept asking me if you were dead yet. I remember telling her you wouldn't die. Not that day. I have never seen another man with will pumping through his veins in place of blood...]

She reached out towards him in fascination, almost as if to touch him. He stepped back from the contact, estranged, and she blinked as if snapped out of a trance. Her blue-gray gaze returned to his face. A moment later she stepped backwards and lifted up her hand to push the arrow through her arm. She bit her lip, and then quietly wrenched the projectile free and cast it to the ground. A tingle thrummed between her fingers, and then she had applied at least enough healing to draw the worst of the damage closed. The rest could wait till she was back with the clerics.

[You were the reason I became... a... a ranger,] Aegis said slowly. [Though, admittedly, there is only so much about the natural world one can learn in a library...] She held out her hand to take her axe back, but Kivan stood back from her, holding the weapon close to himself and giving no indication that she could have it back.

The human girl's eyes widened, and she took a step back as surely as if he had struck her. She looked at the axe, a weapon which unbeknownst to him she had trained with and carried and lain under her pillow since she was nothing more than a toddler. Her fingers folded back on her palm and then she sadly dropped the proffered hand to her side.

[Ah,] she said quietly. Then, wincing and grabbing at her injured arm and shoulder, she turned and headed slowly back to camp. She... she needed to have a chat with Viconia like she'd promised.

Kivan watched her go. He did not trust himself to breathe naturally until she was gone, and then his breath emerged ragged from between his lips. He looked shakily down at the axe he was carrying, remembering a curious little human child with a head of blonde curls. She had been a disruption, an oddity, a flavor, and a color in an otherwise stale, gray, and broken world.

Denetheria was dead. The entire world was but slate and shale. Shapes moved around him, predictable and patterned and unperceived. Mourning for him, no doubt, though they could not begin to comprehend the depths of his pain.

But then: a silly red and golden toddler. No hushed voice, no whispered pity, complete ignorance of his brokenness. She had looked up at him in admiration, as if somehow she could still perceived the threads of what he'd once been through all his numb silence.

This had been Deheriana's axe; originally a gift from him to his lover. It had been one of the items Kivan had escaped Tazok's encampment with; an impossibly agonizing memento of all that had been lost. To leave it for that golden child had been an act of rejuvenation; a gift of ashes to fertilize a new and radiant young life. But to see it again in this situation, and to hand it over to a grown woman... a woman who harbored Thayvians and drow...

Kivan crumbled to his knees in the water, covering his face and shuddering violently.

..

* * *

_"It has to be now," Tallix insisted. "The entryway isn't physical. It's a magical door to some other place, and it can be changed on us!"_

_"I won't do it," Gorion growled._

_"Rion, the time to strike is now," Lullorin protested. "This is the largest hideout we've ever found, larger even than the complex I originally called you to Sembia for! It is a genuine temple of Bhaal; we can't pass this up!"_

_"You are too far along," the aasimar disagreed, reaching forward to touch his lover's swollen belly. "The child could come at any time, and I won't leave you alone for that!"_

_"Rion," she laughed, "I will go to the temple of my god. I will be _fine_. Better than fine! I promise you, Rion, you will find me alive and well when you are done."_

_He looked ready to argue further, but Winthrop put a hand on his shoulder. "We are only going to get this one chance," he reminded the magus. "Once they discover that Tallix killed their door wizard, the entryway is just going to vanish."_

_Gorion took in a long, shuddering breath. He looked at Lullorin once more and she nodded encouragingly. "Alright," he agreed, stepping forward to hug her. "Be safe, my love."_

_"I will. And I'll see you soon, my beloved," she told him. "Don't fear." As they parted ways, he held onto her hand as long as he was able, and then he felt a strange sense of emptiness as her fingers finally dripped away from his._

* * *

{Does this help?} Edwin asked, lowering the scroll back to Imoen with his annotations in place. Imoen jumped, snatching up the scroll. Dynaheir rolled her eyes and tried not to say anything. Honestly, she was in a _very_ good mood, if slightly flustered by the applause with which half the group had welcomed her and Minsc back to the camp the evening before.

{Yes!} Imoen exclaimed, surprisingly turning the scroll upside down again. {That makes a lot more sense!}

{Yet you have turned it upside down,} the wizard observed in amusement.

{Well, it makes more sense that way!}

{Transcribe it in reverse tonight, then. It will be too late, doubtless, but a good exercise.}

Imoen pouted. {Are you going to blind me again today?}

Edwin gave her a long-suffering look. Then he sighed. {No, Monkey. I will cast my _Mirrored Eyes_ on you instead. But I _expect_ any petrification of myself to be dispelled quickly.}

She beamed. {I love you, Peacock,} she told him brightly. Edwin looked disgusted, but accepted the extraordinarily Pink comment as the best show of appreciation the annoying girl could manage.

"Are we missing Kivan?" Branwen asked. "I haven't seen him all morning."

"He and I had a talk last night," Aegis sighed. "Viconia." The dark elf had accepted this with some gratitude. Used to manipulating men, it had not truly sunk in until recently just how close Kivan had been to killing her."

"I appreciate that you have elected to keep my eye-candy in the group as the expense of your own," Edwin grinned toothily, happy to rub salt in a burn for her.

Aegis sneered, not in the mood for the Thayvian's antics. "Let's get moving."

"We are hopefully going up against a wizard today," Ajantis said, coming up beside their leader. "Mutamin, if we can find him. We are going to need to be careful. The reports have whole adventure bands falling to him; and well-prepared ones at that."

"Oh don't worry about _that_," Edwin laughed. "We have wizards of our own.

..

* * *

They found Mutamin surrounded by piles of lazy greater basilisks, each larger in size and weight than Minsc. Almost immediately, Xan stopped short, trying to detect magic. Dynaheir began throwing magical protections on herself, and Edwin likewise.

Mutamin was a gnome, and so obviously could not look intimidating by stature and presence alone. The excited look on his face when he saw them, coupled with the basking lizard bodies all around him, however, did the trick. The party frowned at him warily, readying their battle stances.

"More art has come!" the gnome cooed excitedly. "Good, good, good! Don't you love my pets? They sculpt with their eyes! Such detail, such finesse!"

Aegis was quiet a moment, trying to see if she had anything to say to Mutamin like "Surrender now and your life will be spared!" She looked around at the statues placed all around him and then shrugged helplessly. "Boys and girls, chug your Mirrored Eyes Potions and let's mop the floor with a gnome."

"Oh, I don't _think _so," Mutamin chuckled, starting to summon up magical energy.

Xan's eyes came back into focus. "This area is a maze of wards, spell-triggers, and other magical arsenal!" he hissed to his fellow wizards. "This gnome is no mad fool!

"Break down his defenses," Edwin told the other two wizards. "Everyone else focus on the Basilisks!"

"He's casting a _Time Stop_!" Dynaheir exclaimed in a disbelieving voice. "Spread out!"

The universe twitched. Shuddered. _Skipped_.

Then half a dozen spells were flying through the air. The first thing that landed was a powerful dispel that wiped out nearly everything the party wizard's had lead with, but the worst were the enchantment wards Mutamin activated on the ground. Everything happened too fast for even three wizards to keep track of, and then Xan was down.

"I think I am just going to lay down and die," he mumbled into the earth. Branwen staggered backwards, stunned by the wave of _despair_ coursing through her. She had never felt anything so intense in her life. Minsc roared, whirling on a tree and hacking at it mercilessly with his sword. Shar-Teel stood there, blinking in confusion.

Aegis powered through fear, confusion and despair in one. She charged forward with Kagain and Ajantis hot on her heels, the three of them quickly putting potions of _Mirrored Eyes_ to their lips. Viconia, whose magic resistance and willpower had supported her, whirled about to try and dispel the effects on the team.

Imoen shrieked. "My ankles!" she screamed, and took off running. "They rats are everywhere!" Jackal yelped, flapping after her. Edwin cursed, whirling about to cast a replacement _Mirror Eyes_ on her before she got too far. The basilisks spilled forward at a surprising pace, charging eagerly towards the vulnerable party. Dynaheir led with a spell breach, but whatever Mutamin had cast on himself now completely absorbed the oncoming spell.

"It's a _Spell Trap_," Dynaheir realized. "We can't hit him! Edwin, we don't have anything that can break that!"

"Then we have to wait it out," the Thayvian hissed as he tossed forward his first fireball. "We don't have enough spells to overload it when he can just cast it again at the end!"

"Keep the party functional," she agreed. "He led with utility. If we can keep dispels flowing, counter-spell the biggest threats, and prevent the basilisks from killing anyone, we should be able to buy a twenty-minute fight! Viconia can just needs to get the others ready to-"

Above them, a red streamer bloomed through the air. It crashed into Viconia, wrapping around her like a tight scarf. With a surprised shriek she vanished entirely.

Edwin blanched. He raked his mind for anything he knew about what had just happened. _Maze_. Then he whirled. "Aegis!" he shouted. "Rage! Rage and do not stop for a second!"

The ranger's shriek of fury answered him just seconds before a second red spell flew out and wrapped about her. She slammed right through it, leaving it fragmented and dissipating behind her as she brought her axe down and into the first oncoming basilisk. Kagain followed up behind her, cleaving off a monster's head with a practiced hack. Ajantis skid into place on her left just in time to drive a lunging beast aside with his shield.

Satisfied, Edwin grabbed up his spellbook. "Buy me two minutes, witch-child," he told Dynaheir.

"What are you going to do?" she hissed, summoning up a _Lightning Bolt _to help handle the basilisks.

"I am going to guess," the Thayvian muttered, flipping to one of his newest spells.

Shar-Teel whirled on them all of a sudden. A manic and bewildered look entered her face, and then her eyes alighted on Xan. She grinned broadly and then darted forward, readying her dagger. "Shar-Teel!" the witch exclaimed, torn between counter-spelling Mutamin's fireball spell or rushing to help her friend.

"TEMPUS!"

Although Edwin would have enjoyed watching Shar-Teel getting her face pummeled in by anyone, even She-Tempus, he had bigger fish to fry. His eyes flew over the pages of his spellbook as he rapidly tried to replace a spell in his mind and ready it for use. He heard a cry as a heavily counterspelled fireball exploded around himself and the witch, but he kept reading on as he was quite impervious to fire.

Dynaheir was mildly singed and coughed a moment before rounding on the rest of the party to try and cast a a dispel. A moment later, and Xan was struggling to his feet. Shar-Teel looked around in confusion and then swore when Branwen punched her in the face. "Stop it! Stop it before I punch you in the cunt, I'm back to normal!"

Minsc turned about several times before loosing a roar and charging into the basilisk fight to save the other warriors from walls of chomping teeth and slashing claws. Viconia did not reappear. Dynaheir cursed and then turned back towards Mutamin just in time to see a barrage of twenty magic-missiles coming at her.

"Shit."

"Dyn!" Branwen called, scrambling past Shar-Teel. Shar-Teel cursed and followed, especially because she could see other basilisks approaching the group from the side.

Xan's eyes widened. He threw up abjurations around himself and then glanced backwards when Imoen ran shrieking across the background of the fight, no less than four juvenile lizards in hot pursuit. His eyes widened. His fingers started moving for a _Haste _spell, because he had a feeling they were all going to need it.

* * *

Edwin slammed his spellbook closed and replaced it at his side. He began to conjure, and presently a glimmering archway opened up behind him. Dynaheir was alive and coughing up blood. Xan had successfully intercepted Imoen and was holding the shrieking, shaking girl by the hand as she looked nervously about.

Aegis was bloodied, but she and her three 'warriors' were now moving incredibly fast under the effects of Xan's haste, hacking and chopping with incredible speed. Ajantis was trying to take the bulk of the damage for his team, but with so many powerful lunging bodies it was impossible to protect them at all times. Kagain had big curls of flesh torn out from one arm, and Minsc was already heavily battered.

From what Edwin could see Xan was trying to counterspell Mutamin; and Mutamin was on the verge of dispelling the entire party's _Mirrored Eyes_ protection.

The Red Wizard took a slow breath, stepping through the conjured archway. He appeared on the opposite side of the field, right behind the well-protected and positively glowing Mutamin. Trying not to make a sound, Edwin stepped up behind the gnome, unsheathed his belt dagger, leaned over, and threw an arm across the gnome. He jammed the blade in to the other wizard's collar bone and pulled it in a swift horizontal cut.

The warm gush of red across his fingers was dirty but incredibly satisfying. The gnome sputtered and gasped, his protections dying out one-by one as consciousness left him and he slumped to the ground.

Edwin smirked. Then a basilisk whirled towards him and he realized he had drank his own Mirrored Eyes potion previous to Mutamin's leading dispel. Then everything went dark and cold.

* * *

They decided that the bearer of the Rod of Stone to Flesh ought to be Imoen; as she was also the one they needed to keep most universally protected from petrification. In any event, their front-line fighters had taken an extensive beating and needed immediate medical care from anyone with healing knowledge. 'Medical knowledge' was, unfortunately, not one of Imoen's many fabulous skills.

The first person she released from petrification was, of course, her favorite. "That was an incredibly unpleasant experience," Edwin noted, staggering slightly to the side. Xan caught his shoulder lest the conjurer fall and crush him.

"We have been conscripted into freeing the statues," Xan sighed. "Would you like to join us?"

Edwin grimaced, pulling his arm back to himself. "What? No, 'Excellent plan, Edwin; you killed that powerful mage in one stroke Edwin; you truly are a cunning wizard Edwin, oh, and that was _very_ risky!'?" Xan lifted a brow, realizing that affirmations of masculinity were perhaps more of a wizard thing and less of a personal affliction.

Imoen giggled, kissed one of her fingers, and tapped the Thayvian on the nose. He made a sound of disgust. "You are the _best_ wizard ever," she told him.

"Somehow it is terribly unsatisfying in your voice," he snarled. "Can't you do _anything_ right little fool?"

Imoen laughed and then headed around to start de-petrifying the other people. Suddenly de-statue-ified persons stumbled about all over the place, crying out in surprise and alarm and then looking up perplexed at their rescuers. Xan moved over to explain the situation to them and to cast any necessary charms or sooth emotions spells.

{Edwin,} Imoen decided after a moment's thought, smiling because she knew exactly what she was doing, {you may not yet be _the_ most powerful wizard in the universe, but when you can concoct plans as quick-thinking and bold as _that_ one, I can most _certainly_ see how you intend on making the climb. You really are a dragon sometimes.}

Edwin huffed, the adrenaline of the battle still burning in his veins. He knew they had barely won. The rest of the party had been given plenty of time to calm down from the initial threat of death, but Edwin had been frozen when he was still mid-victory. Still, she watched as her Peacock mentally preened himself. He liked the flattery, and it made him feel considerably better about having been petrified.

Imoen smothered a giggle and leaned over to touch the Rod to a petrified halfling. She said the words to activate the Rod, and then began moving to the next statue as the _Stone to Flesh_ took hold.

"Ye-AAAAAAAAAY!" the halfling squealed. Edwin, who had scarcely been paying attention to what Imoen was doing, nearly leaped out of his skin at the noise. "I'm fwee!" the little woman exclaimed, bouncing. "Oh, goody goody gum drops with sprinkles, you're the best cherry tarts I've ever done seen, hee!"

Edwin (and Xan, but he was farther way) recoiled, overwhelmed by the amount of sugar in the air. Then the Thayvian cried out in shock when the halfling suddenly threw herself at him and hugged him. Imoen twisted about to see what had happened, and then broke out laughing hysterically.

"Oh _gods_," the Red Wizard gasped in horror. The halfling was dressed almost entirely in hot pink, and looked to be clad in leathers with a deep hood. She even had a shortbow. "It's like a miniaturized, overly dense, compact version of _you!_ Get it off! Get it off! It has my leg!"

"You saved me! You are _my_ heroes!" the halfling laughed, smiling up at Edwin and then Imoen.

"What's your name?" Imoen sputtered, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I'm Alora!" the halfling piped up. "And I'm the bestest best best thief this side of Waterdeep!"

"I'm Imoen!" the human thief answered, stretching out a hand to shake. "Me too!"

"Wow!" Alora cried out. "Two bestest best best thieves?! That's a lot of bests! And who is this cranky red dragon?"

"This is Edwin!" Imoen was delighted that Alora had pinned Edwin as a dragon just the same as she herself had. "Don't worry, he's always a little sourfaced, hehe!"

"Monkey!" the conjurer exclaimed desperately. "Get it off of me! (Am I begging? I am begging. I don't care; it must get off of us! Help us, fool!)"

"He talks funny! Thank you for saving me Eddy! You're the best wizard ever!"

"Her voice," the wizard sounded like he was being strangled. "Her voice is diabetes. (Make this stop. Make it stop!)"

"Hey, that's a nice thing to say!" Alora giggled, releasing him. "But why so frowny frowny? Smile, Eddy!"

Edwin seized Imoen, hauling her bodily between himself and the halfling. Imoen yelped and then glanced back at him, grinning diabolically. "What is wrong with her?" the Thayvian hissed. "Is she stupid, bewitched, or simply a juvenile?" he snarled. "(I think I can feel my intellect draining out of my ears just by being in this close of proximity to her!")

"Hey! I'm almost forty you know! Not everyone has to get all sour-faced meanie mean when they get big!"

"_Stupid_ then!" the Red Wizard hissed. "Keep her away from me or I shall immolate her! (Fire! Fire everywhere, I swear it!)"

"Don't be like that! Let's be friends!" the halfling giggled, stepping towards her.

"What!? (Ye Gods.) Why are my only friends pink thieves!? Why not liches, dragons, and beautiful women!?"

"HEY!" Two Pinks pouted at him. "You take that back, we are _so_ beautiful!" Edwin nearly broke down crying when they talked simultaneously and said nearly the exact same thing. They looked at each other and then broke out laughing.

"Hey who is the Elfy?" Alora asked, turning to hop up to the enchanter.

Aghast, Xan looked from the halfling, to Imoen, and then back again. "I do not want to to talk to you," he told her glumly. "I do not think I can bear your voice."

"Don't be sad, I'm wonderful!" the halfling laughed. "I'll _teach_ you to be happy! Give me a hug!"

Xan stumbled backwards, crying out in draconic. Moments later, and Alora was caught in a _Hold Person_, arms still outstretched.

"Hey!" Edwin was offended. "That is _cruel._ She has been petrified for who even knows how long, and you turn around and paralyze her?" Xan looked at the Thayvian in alarm. Edwin blinked, seeming to register what he had just said. Then he gagged in horror, and needed to step away. Imoen stared after him a moment and then turned a wide-eyed expression on Xan.

Gloomy and Buoyant decided not to say anything about Edwin's remarkable slip. To anyone. Most of all to Edwin himself. Whatever insane, twisted instinct had provoked Edwin to react protectively on a complete stranger's behalf, neither of them wanted to accidentally crush it.

* * *

- Kivvaaaaannnn! Don't go! We'll do the Bandit Camp eventually, I swear!

- Diabetes: I looked this up and this term is actually ancient. Diabetes was one of the first medical diseases ever recorded; Egyptians, Persians, and the Chinese all have recordings of it. Half their names for it mean 'sugar urine.' So imagine Edwin totally referring to Alora as 'Sugar Urine!'

- Edwin has to be wondering if he's lost his mind XD. Let's blame Imoen XD.

- In the next chapter we fill find out what happens to Lullorin! Call your guesses!

- For the curious, I thought I'd finally blurb about Imoen's weapon, the Blacksun. I drew inspiration from living in Hong Kong and from Edwin's name for her: 'Monkey,' and her more formal title: "The Incredibly and Infinitely Buoyant Pink Monkey Queen of Candlekeep."

The Blacksun's formal name is given as "The Sun Awakened to Emptiness," and although Imoen primarily uses it as a shortbow she also now transforms it to a quarterstaff for close quarters combat.

"Awakened to Emptiness" is the English translation of "Wukong" which makes the weapon's name "Sun Wukong" if we remove 'The' from the beginning.

Sun Wukong is the name of the Monkey King from Chinese Mythology. His signature weapon is a staff :)

Clearly Imoen's Epilogue must involve her going on a Journey to the East to achieve enlightenment! Kara-Tur, make yourself ready! Crazy is coming to visit!


	26. Adding Insult to Injury

This chapter is going to swing bipolar. The silly and gloom will feel very unpleasant together. Intentionally painful contrast!

Goodluck keeping the flashbacks straight! XD The FFFFs use the same exact _italics_ convention as a flashback Gorion has to meeting Xzar in The Song of the Morning temple. Unfortunately, it is very hard to denote flashbacks in almost all media!

Hope what happens to Lullorin blows your mind :)

* * *

_Six adventurers had taken the temple by storm; that was a story worth telling in itself. It had by no means been easy, but as Gorion made his way alone across the main chapel, hot on the trail of a dying priest, he was satisfied with their victory. His heart sorrowed at what would come after, but they had dealt a great blow against Bhaal that day. _

_A bolt of negative energy rippled out from the side alcove as Gorion approached, but he leaned slightly to let it pass him by. Magic Missiles poured out from his fingertips, and at last the priest was dead. He took in a slow breath and nodded to himself._

_"I was wondering if you would make it through all of the wraiths. I suppose I need not have worried."_

_Gorion froze. That voice...? Incredulously he whirled about, staring down the length of the central chapel towards the altar. Where a moment ago there had been no one, now stood a woman in the robes of the Morning Lord. She was half-elfin and had brilliant golden hair._

_"The hells?" he muttered, disturbed by this figment of his lover. "What manner of illusion would take the shape of-?"_

_"I am not an illusion," Lullorin responded. "Come here, I want to show you something. Cast some discernment spells to identify me if need be; this is important."_

_Gorion frowned in surprise. He obliged her, rapidly casting spells to purge illusions and discern magic. At last, bewildered, he cast a divination spell to 'find' the direction of his lover. It pointed true, homing straight in on her._

_"What are you- how are you-? Lullorin!" he protested._

_"Come here," she insisted in mischevious amusement as she turned around and walked quickly towards the front of the chaple._

_Baffled and concerned, Gorion hurried after her. Upon the altar he saw a basket and, after performing these types of raids so many times, he could easily guess what was inside. She slipped behind the basket and turned to face him. "Tell me if you see anything strange about this Bhaalspawn," she implored him. _

_Confused, Gorion did as she bade him. He came up to the basket and looked down. Then his breath caught in his throat. Within was a tender newborn, with silver hair fluffy with downy, and lightly pointed ears. It was a boy, and his skin was ruddy with the birthing process. "Lullorin," he whispered in dismay. "What curse are you under? This is not-"_

_"I have long wondered how you would respond," she told him. "Whether you would be able to take such a life."_

_"Lullorin, this is no Bhaalspawn!" he looked up at her in alarm._

_"No? He is my son, and I am not a cleric of Lathander, Gorion," she told him. "And while I understand you to be confused, I suggest you take a moment to swallow that I told you I would be in the temple of my god, and that you have found me _here_."_

_"This- no. This doesn't connect. Even..." Gorion stepped back, spooked. "Lullorin, that- that still would not make this child a Bhaalsp- what madness _is_ this!?"_

_Lullorin sighed and waved a hand. A darkness flowed out around her, darkening her robes from Lathander's into something horrific. The sigil of the Morning Lord transformed into a skull and blood. Gorion's eyes widened in horror and he was hardly sure whether to argue her logic or the impossible sight of her presense. _

_Surely this was a shapeshfter's ruse! He cast his know direction spell again and then snarled in disbelief. Perhaps he was simply faced with a mage whose power to weave mistruths was stronger than Gorion's ability to pierce them? __"No," the aasimar hissed. "Your story makes no sense. This child has _my_ hair!"_

_"He does," Lullorin agreed patiently. "He is still a Bhaalspawn."_

_"I am his father!" Gorion disagreed._

_"Of course," she laughed. "And I? What do you think I am? A high priestess?"_

_Gorion shook his head, clueless what was going on. _

_Lullorin smiled gently. "I am the latest incarnation of Kazgoroth, Rion," she told him. When he didn't immediately react, she stood back from the altar and her shape began to flicker and change rapidly._

_She took the forms and faces of a thousand different men and women, including everyone in their current adventuring party, Gorion himself, and at last a ghoulish looking Doppelganger with a mouth of sharp black teeth and gaping sockets for eyes. She resumed the shape of Lullorin as Gorion staggered backwards, a gape of horror and understanding on his face._

_"Ah," she chuckled. "At last, at long last, you finally recognize me. Well, to be fair, I have been artificially repressing your ability to sense me."_

_"Bhaal..." Gorion whispered, dropping to his knees at a loss for words._

_"Yes, Rion," Lullorin purred. "Bhaal. Right beside the Harpers' champion, controlling and guiding his every move."_

_"W-why... did... why did you l-let me k-kill...?"_

_"My children? Gorion. I let _you_ kill _my_ children. You. With daggers I enchanted. Do you have any idea what a splendid twist that was, to have you and your meddlesome 'good' deities behind that? You bundled up some of my divinity into my own holy weapons. Do you really think I released those souls? No, Rion; that was an illusion. I hid the daggers for later sons and daughters to find. Made a _delightful_ game of it, too."_

_The wizard was dumbfounded, shaking his head in horror and disbelief. "I l-loved... I s-shared of myself...-"_

_"I lied," she told him. "But don't worry, Rion, odds are we are far from done with you. You'll have your shot at revenge. Clean up here and make your decision on what to do with your son. I _did _want to give you a much more interesting moral dilemma, but I am afraid prolonged contact with me has left him quite obviously my child. Happy hunting. That is, if you manage to regain your feet at all."_

_"All... all of those children...?"_

_"I hope you remember their names, sweet Rion; by now they are little more than power and blood, and those names are all that is left of them."_

_He gagged, clutching at his stomach and face in horror._

_"One last thing, my lover, before I go. Our other avatar has repressed some of your memories... and I want to give you a little motivation to keep fighting. Favorite adversary and all, mm? So let me restore you."_

_Gorion looked up at her (him?) and then cried out in horror and pain as his awareness was thrust back almost two years past._

* * *

_The memories Lullorin- Kazgoroth- Bhaal! had returned to him were not good ones. He fell into them, until they were like the present. He remembered the Slayer standing over him, gaunt, skeletal, dark. Chai's soul was pinched between his sharpened bone fingertips. _

_The god-thing watched him with intrigue; as if fascinated by his life, his pain, his suffering. Gorion thought him sadistic; but in contrast to Kazgoroth's unbelievably malefic reversal, he realized the Slayer was little more than sociopathic. Like a cat. A giant, terrible cat, playing with a captured mouse._

_The avatar dangled the soul like a bit of bait. He wanted something of Gorion, and he was prepared to trade. He teased the aasimar with her soul more out of instinct than any real plan. Berserk with grief, Gorion reached up fingers towards the silvery wisp. A momentary terror overtook him when the Slayer dangled it just outside his reach._

_He was agreeing to something. He was selling something. Something small; not his soul. Temporary compliance._

_The magus swallowed hard and held his palm up. 'Please,' he whimpered._

_Death considered him for a moment. Then he nodded and placed the writhing spirit gently into the aasimar's outstretched hand. As Gorion reunited her soul and body, Chai took in a weak breath. Her master cried out in relief and fear, embracing her tiny form._

_The Slayer lifted up his scythe and slammed the blade into the ground so the weapon would stick there. Then he gave a slow flick of his skeletal hand, and the levitation spell eased his prey near to the ground. The god-thing drifted there for a moment, shadows licking around his deathly shape. _

_Pitch black muscles altered in shape, and bones distended slightly. The pelvis structure altered beneathe the embrace of the loin cloth, the hips broadened, the jaw became more streamlined, and the pectoral muscles rounded out suggestively._

_There was nothing Gorion could do. He lay where he- it- _she _had placed him, holding Chai's form protectively against his throat. As he watched the god-thing's shape reconfigure, he realized what he had agreed to._

_The skeletal monster drifted to a kneeling position, her clawed fingers digging painfully into his clothes as ifappreciating what she had to work with. She had been summoned under a certain pretense, and she was compelled to answer the summons in that context. At first her icy touch stole out life energy like any spectre's. Whispers coursed about her, and a positive energy barrier shimmered up his skin._

_Then her sharpened fingers were bunching up his robes about his waist and neatly unlacing his trousers._

_Gorion let his head loll backwards, looking out unseeing across the temple. Whispers of magic made his expression contort with dismay as she forced his physical compliance. Tears were on his face again, blurring his vision long before she mounted him. __His mind began to leave him, wandering far away as ebon fingertips tightened into his flesh and bones in her enthusiasm. _

_She was silent. She was the opposite of gentle. She cut him and impaled him and, each time she felt she had weakened him too far, she applied healing with a casual gesture._

_Then the memories released him._

* * *

_Gorion blinked back his lover's cruel restoration, gasping hard in the air of the Bhaalite temple._

_"As such," he heard Lullorin's voice, "this isn't your firstborn son. We still have another, hidden somewhere. Much darker. Motivation enough?"_

_Gorion lifted his head, but Kazgoroth was gone. His eyes were wide and he was shaking. Slowly, he looked up at the basket on the altar before him. His newborn child slept peacefully away, emitting an aura of such prominent death energy that Gorion could almost taste it._

_No. __No._

* * *

Aegis glanced back in amusement and then shook her head.

Edwin was very obviously confused. His face was an expression of pain as they walked back to The Song of the Morning Temple with their entire herd of de-paralyzed persons. More than a few bandits or animals got in their way, but given that a significant chunk of the herd had once been adventurers, and that Aegis' party was eleven strong, they met with nothing they weren't able to kill to scare off.

Except Alora.

She yammered on and on and on, telling all sort of stories about her great heists and the art of modeling halfling fashion. Xan was twitching rapidly and looked about ready to murder her. Every time he let a wry quip sneak out, Alora accused him of being terribly mean. At last, Imoen took Xan's arm and propelled him away from the halfling. Edwin watched her go with some perverse form of envy or resentment. Then he shook his head and went back to being psychologically tortured.

They arrived late in the afternoon, with the sun low on the horizon. Kelddath was stunned. He came out to see the approaching crowd for himself, shook his head in disbelief, and gave a rare smile. Then he was rousing every cleric and acolyte he could find in order to take in such a gathering of wounded and bewildered persons.

When Ajantis and Aegis came up to him, he smiled broadly. "I confess, I did not expect such _resounding_ success," he admitted. "Mutamin is dead?"

Aegis nodded. "We are incredibly competent at fumbling our way to victory," she told him.

"Do not be modest! Ajantis when you came to me for work for your party, I had no idea what you were truly capable of. You shall all have your reward, and then some!"

Aegis eyed the horizon. "All in a day's work. We need to get back out to camping before it gets too dark, Kelddath."

"Nonsense! Stay in Beregost, on me!" She shook her head and explained the issues of assassins, but the cleric shook his head. "Camp in the temple then," he insisted. "We will get warm food from the inns and bring it here, and you can share in the bounty."

"Your hospitality is unnecessary but appreciated," Ajantis said politely and then looked to Aegis. "I am afraid if we rush back to camp we will not only fail to reach it this evening, but possibly stumble into some of the bandits we just displaced. But, Aegis, many of the people we rescued will be ready to enter Beregost this evening. If magic can disguise us, surely we could slip in among them and be no one the wiser?"

Aegis scowled for a moment but then her expression smoothed out and she nodded. "You're right," she admitted.

"If that is your plan, then permit my friends to help," Kelddath to them, gesturing to his Sirines. "They are masters of such spells, and I will beg their help for you. No one will see through their ruses this evening. They can even add a convenience and ensure that you are able to see through each others' illusions; That should help in the event any problems crop up."

"We should probably split up into smaller groups, then," Ajanatis considered. "We will be less recognisable."

"Oh _grand_," Aegis sighed. "Let's put a wizard with each of them. Then I can have panic attacks all night long about how all my wizards are in catastrophic danger."

"_Just_ the wizards?" Ajantis asked, in a good mood on account of all the rescues, and amused by her priorities.

"Look, okay, it's not my fault!" the ranger protested loudly. "I have _incredibly severe allergies_ to any and all injuring of wizards! Yes, even the loud angry red one! Highly related to my intense hatred for _ogres_..."

Far across the temple from where Aegis was standing, the present-day Gorion leaned heavily into a great stone pillar. He closed his eyes, listening to his daughter's voice. To be there, to hear her, and to do nothing, was a great torture.

The gods had been cruel to bring him back to life whilst forbidding him to act; but then, when had the gods ever been kind? When had Mystra or Lathander led him from darkness? What was he supposed to do with this life they had given him? Head out east and ply his trade killing dragons and rescuing villagers? Did gods understand _nothing_ of parenthood? Of the sacrifice of soul, of self, that went into rearing a child?

He closed his eyes, thinking of the mad Bhaalite his child had so foolishly and so voluntarily claimed as her lover. A Zhentarim Deathstalker.

* * *

_"Well hello, Not-So-Very-Dead Harper. Imagine seeing you here."_

_Gorion spun around, eyes widening in surprise, fury, and alarm at the hooded necromancer; The Zhent was still wearing his daughter's Candlekeep cloak. All that was visible of his face was the unnaturally elongated smile. At the sight of him, the monk's upper lip curled in a sneer, and ice blossomed from his fingertips as fast as draconic could pour from his mouth.  
_

_The necromancer lifted up a finger and waved his prohibitively. "Nah-ah-ah! You aren't allowed to do that, are you?"_

_The aasimar cut off mid-syllable, divine words floating through his mind as he recalled the conditions of his return to the Prime Material. His spell burst into harmless snowflakes, and he stared helplessly at the Deathstalker._

_"That's what I thought," the madman murmured coyly. "Now let's try this again: Hello Not-So-Very-Dead Harper. I am Xzar. Oh, look at you... strung up like a marionette and noosed by the strings as if dead, aren't you? But not dead. I wonder at you; what makes you so special that Elminster Aumar would step in on your behalf?"  
_

_"Leave..." the monk begged._

_"Soon," the necromancer agreed, stepping forward and looking the Harper up and down with an inquisitive eye. "Feathers!" he realized with a breath. "The Little Death did not mention that. You are not entirely mortal...!"_

_"Please," Gorion whispered._

_Xzar cackled, walking about the monk and studying him, and then snatching a long feather painfully from behind. "Aasimar. All fresh, all short. You plucked them? She knows not, then! So interesting, why hide that?"_

_The monk said nothing this time, closing his eyes._

_The necromancer smiled cruelly. "Oh calm down. I am only marveling at your tangles!" he cooed, earning him a startled look. "How ever did you end up in a crosshatch? It is almost ludicrous how many gods want you. I can hardly tell where one's threads end and another's begin. Yes... yes, what all do you smell of? Oghma, for sure... Mystra, yes. Lathander, even... Mm... You must have been mired in quite the purgatory before someone sprung you from their quarrel."_

_"Are you going to tell her?" was all the monk asked him quietly._

_"Aegis? Of you? Should I?" Xzar purred curiously. "Why don't you enlighten me on your predicament, sage?"_

_Gorion didn't answer him._

_"Tut, tut. If you say nothing, then perhaps I should tell her?"_

_Flinch. "I cannot interfere," the monk whispered. "I cannot influence the outcome in favor of any god, even my patron. I cannot come into contact with her, or be known of by her, in any way."_

_"Or...?" The necromancer paused, his eyes narrowing. Then an excited expression took over his face, and he threw his hood back as he recognized the scent of yet another god, or, at least, another portfolio._

_"I will perish, and be judged-"_

_"Death!" Xzar exclaimed. "You! You are the Harper that led the purges! You are the one who- Ahahahaha! And all this time... All this time you have been in Candlekeep!? Spitting in his face so beautifully!" the necromancer shrieked delightfully, earning him a very disturbed expression from the monk. "Oh! Oh, but it is not enough is it? No, no, no, the gods do not see it that way, they do not understand! They see you rearing the daughter of Murder. All you've done to spite him, all you've done to blaspheme our god, and your daughter is still enough proof to say you belong to Death!"_

_"We do not share a god," Gorion whispered fervently._

_"Don't we!" Xzar laughed, because they did but Gorion was right: it was not Bhaal. "No, no, no, no, no! I could not tell her about you! If you die now, the issue of your patron is resolved, is it not? You end up Death's, so Cyric's by proxy. Ha! No, I hate him more than I could ever want to hurt you. And you were so precious to Bhaal, to our god; so beautifully fallen... I would hate to destroy Death's pretty stained glass window no reason, heheheh!"_

_"I am Oghma's," the monk answered, tense. "Please, go. I cannot-"_

_Xzar smiled. "-cannot be caught influencing for gods? Then be at ease! Because according to the Watchful Eye, I'm as faithless as a demon worshiper! And should Cyric summon me before Helm as a witness on Bhaal's behalf, I shall proudly tell the Ever Vigilant that the Mad God is a liar and a thief and you belong to the Happy Library in the Sky. It shall be certainly one fine interpretation of the truth!"_

_The aasimar grimaced, his fists clenching at this confirmation that Xzar was an active Deathstalker. "What do you want?" he asked bitterly._

_The necromancer sighed almost dreamily at the question. "To turn around, go home and climb back into your daughter's bed where I am wanted," he answered truthfully, earning him a thoroughly confused and disgusted expression in turn. Xzar laughed, then stumbled backwards when the aasimar started casting. "Oh, you-!" He squeaked, ducking as an ice lance tore over the top of his shoulder, tearing open his robes. Blood appeared immediately as Xzar landed on his rump and looked to the injury in surprise. He was pleased and amused to find the enchanted cloak had resisted harm._

_"Get out! Get out before I decide to test if your lack of patron means I can kill you!" the monk was barley restraining himself, but clearly terrified of making a mistake._

_Xzar looked up at the aasimar for a moment. Then, slowly, he climbed to his feet, and lifted his hand to his bleeding shoulder. "Eyzi... Eyzitreg pünsig duvocdan irtivlekh," he murmured in a frail voice. And then he felt it. The wind through empty caverns. The stirring of the dust. The vomiting of life. White energy bloomed up between his fingertips, and he gasped out in nearly orgasmic excitement as it rushed through his injuries._

_Gorion jerked backwards in surprise. "Y-you said-"_

_"I said we shared a god, and that our god was Death," Xzar whispered with frantic excitement, lifting green eyes to the aasimar and slowly releasing his shoulder. "She is so strange, Harper. What have you made of her?_

_The aasimar's eyes widened. "She-'s providing divine?! No! She has never even killed another Child of Murder, how could she possibly-?"_

_"I," Xzar flicked out his hands, "don't," he smiled innocently, "know. But I have theories. Tell me, old monk. Are her bones the dim color of ebony beneath her flesh?"_

_Gorion swallowed hard._

_Xzar shook his head in disbelief. "You took in such a monster... and made from it a woman? No, not any woman; a valiant one, an unbreakable one, who walks casually past her sire as if he wasn't there?"_

_"How is she manifesting magic?" the aasimar whispered with trepidation. "Is she harvesting souls?"_

_"No," Xzar answered, still delightfully high from the feeling of divine magic rushing through him. "Souls are flocking to her. I suppose that is what happens when the Knave of Death is a crazy-face and 'Aegis' means 'Shield.' Your situation makes sense, though. The Knave senses your connection to Bhaal; you reared a Bhaalspawn; he is paranoid; so she must be an usurper. All the more ironic because I'm sure you'd steer Aegis_ away_ from divinity as opposed to towards._"

_"What do you want?" the monk insisted angrily. _

_"Not to go," Xzar repeated the sentiment. "But that would bring half of Darkhold down on her, and I'm pretty sure the other half has already been rented out by her adversaries. Oh, Harper, what have you made? She is such beautiful, sweet blasphemy."_

_The aasimar grimaced, taken aback by this second reference to returning to his daughter's side. _

_"No. No, I will protect her, Harper, as few others can. I will protect her, carefully, jealously, from every other Bhaalspawn, Bhaalite, Cyrite, and Fool. I will protect her straight up until the moment I am sure her death will revive my Lord. That I cannot help; it is the purpose which kept me alive through Cyrite tortures for almost a decade. And then, if Oghma really loves you, Aegis will survive my betrayal and pulp my head on a rock."_

_The necromancer wasn't taunting him. He was equally open to both possibilities. Gorion staggered back in horror, protective of Aegis but also frightened of what could happen to him if he resorted to murder. "Get... Get out. Get OUT."_

_Xzar smiled. "As you wish. I am late anyways," he said, straightening his- her!- cloak and then turning to leave. _

_Gorion stood, shaking, until the Zhent at last had gone. Then he whirled and threw an ice nova as furiously as he could, shrieking out the draconic as layers of crystal shards spiraled up the temple pillars, walls, floor, and ceiling._

_Panting, shaking, the old monk dropped to his knees. He held steady there for a moment and then he curled in on himself, covered his face, and began to cry. He waited for some time to see if the gods would smite him for 'interference.' Then he was hit by the hysterical thought that the single, sole and only person through whom which Gorion might possibly have been able to affect Aegis was: Xzar._

* * *

Now, days past that time, listening to his daughter's voice, Gorion finally had something of a plan. Xzar's presence had revealed a laughably perverse twist to Gorion's predicament. Gorion could interact with Xzar freely and, despite Xzar's proximity to Aegis, Gorion had received no retribution. Both Kelddath and Elminster were prohibited from directly interfering with Aegis in their own ways; and Gorion could not have spoken to Jaheira without at least six different dieties throwing down a gauntlet.

But Xzar's patron was dead; in the present time Bhaal was not Death; and as long as Aegis _survived_ the Bhaalspawn crisis and Bhaal did not return, Gorion was safe. Which meant through the principle of generalization that Gorion could also influence Aegis indirectly through any other ex-Bhaalite or Deathstalker, presuming they had never taken up an alternative patron.

In other words, the only people who Gorion could use to do something and yet avoid his damnation, were believers in the exact god whom had originally damned him.

Irony.

And it just so happened that Gorion knew one such creature; an ex-Bhaalite whom Gorion had trusted, hated, and then at last reached peaceful resolution with when Aegis was but seven years old.

Tallix Snapdragon.

* * *

There was only one person who reached the bar faster than Aegis that evening, and that was most definitely Edwin. He sighed in relief over a mug of ale.

"You took one for the team today," Xan complemented. "My ears... I was yards away and my poor _ears_... I am going to bed."

Edwin grunted. The tavern was overrun with merry people doubling up three and four to a room, all dancing and swapping stories. He could have picked the _Red Sheaf_ and enjoyed a quieter evening, but he was hoping to disappear among other people.

When Imoen found him, she placed down the _Mirror Eyes_ scroll down on the bar and tapped a sigil. She asked him a question or two and then, to his surprise, she headed upstairs without so much as taking a look at any of the male bar patrons. A smirk twisted his lips. Biblophile.

The Red Wizard tuned out the revelry and drank. A short while late, Branwen joined him at the bar. Shr didn't say anything, for which he was grateful; He had little enough in common with her.

Within an hour he was most certainly comfortable. Too comfortable, really. He was trying to decide whether or not to hunt down a bar wench or go straight to bed. He was almost at the point where he doubted he could perform. When a pink shape slipped into the seat beside him, he looked over casually. Then an expression of horror twisted over his face. Wrong shade of pink.

"Hello!" Alora beamed. Branwen did a double-take and winced. "I totally recognize you even without the red! Is that an ilussion? I disbelieved!"

"She's... she's so _adorable_," the cleric mumbled. "Like a teddy bear or..."

"I am!" Alora announced. "But! I am also... a _lady_," she confessed.

Edwin stared at her a moment. Then he turnd and ordered another ale. He considered casting deafness on himself, though it seemed Alora was less chipper as she had been on the road.

"Do you dance, Eddy?" she asked, smiling at the tavern music.

"No."

"You should," she protested, settling a cup of red wine on the bar. "It's good music! Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! Wee!"

The Red Wizard looked pathetically at Branwen. "Can you entertain this _child_ for a bit?" he begged, and she held up her hands prohibitively to say she _absolutely would not_. "Then, if I kill her, will Aegis understand? I have nothing to paralyze, hold, or otherwise contain her with."

"Ed_dy_" Alora protested, and then his eyes widened and he looked down as the halfling woman climbed into his lap. "I am _not_ a child and that was not very nice at all!" she grinned cheekily, pushing her hood back. She had a heart-shaped face and bright pink hair.

"Please remove your posterior from contact with me," he managed in a strangled voice.

Alora grinned up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Silly sad face! Maybe you just need a kiss to feel better?" Then, as quick as lightning, she reached up to snatch his collar, tugged his head down, and placed a kiss on his mouth. She released him just as fast, retreating from the unsolicited smooch with a grin.

Edwin stared at her in violated horror, and he _knew_ he had had far, far too much to drink. Branwen was on the verge of bawling with laughter. Slowly looking over at the Norheimer, Edwin shook his head in disbelief. "I am so confused right now," he said in a small voice.

"She likes ye!" Branwen cackled.

"I like you!" Alora agreed.

"If you _ever_... _ever_... mention that this happened to me... mention it to _anyone_..."

Branwen crossed herself over the heart, tears leaking from her eyes she was repressing such hard laughs.

* * *

When a knock came at Imoen's window, it in itself was enough to amuse her. When she opened the shutters and a levitating Red Wizard climbed through, she nearly broke out laughing. "Okay, you are going to have to explain this one to me," she told him.

"The halfling was starting to proposition me, so I made up something about having to use the latrine. We need to barricade the door."

"What!?" Imoen was laughing. "Why?"

"The only thing standing between her and I is a shoddily locked door and, after living with you, I know that won't hold her for long!"

"Well you could ward!"

"I have nothing innocuous to ward with!" he exclaimed. "Just fire!"

"Well, you could ward with _fire_," Imoen noted thoughtfully. "Rig the doors with fireballs, for example."

Edwin stared at her hesitantly for a moment, and she realized he was weaving slightly. "But that would be... _mean_," he protested. "And she's so... so _cute_."

"... Edwin... How much wine have you _had_?" she asked him slowly. This was the same man who had put _Explosive Runes_ all over his spellbook in the hopes of blowing Imoen to pieces.

"Too much," he whined guiltily. "She was starting to look appetizing." Then he gagged, hardly daring to believe he was saying this.

Imoen put her hands on her hips. "I'm not sure if you are aware..." she drawled slowly, a teasing smirk on her face. "But halflings make for excellent lovers."

"I have had plenty of excellent whores," he complained. "Imoen, _Kwefai_. Help me. Please don't tempt me while I am so inebriated. I just want to go to sleep with the last remaining shards of my dignity. Help me."

"Well," Imoen thought perhaps she would go easy on Edwin and help him, "if we barricade the door, there's still the window."

He was clearly drunk because his answer was: "Damn. We don't have enough furniture!" and he looked desperately around as if hoping to find more of it hidden somewhere. He was just about to say something else but Imoen grabbed his shoulder and made a 'hush' gesture.

Edwin frowned. A moment later he heard the soft scratching of lock picks. He recoiled from the door and looked to Imoen in horror. {Get in your bed!} he hissed the demand and then quickly blew out her reading candle. {Now! We must pretend we are sleeping!}

{What?} she mouthed, grinning broadly, though she went and did as he asked. Then she nearly leaped out of her skin when Edwin followed her.

{Move over!}

{What!?}

{You must do this for me! Nothing repels a woman like another woman! Move over!}

It took everything Imoen not to break down howling with laughter as the Thayvian forced himself, shoes and all, into the narrow cot with her. {Where the hell does _that_ knowledge come from!?} she hissed with mirth in her eyes.

{Have I somehow failed to mention my family has a harem!?}

Imoen smacked a hand over her face, shifting over out of reflex. Then she heard the click of the door unlocking and quickly tossed the blanket up over both of their heads, throwing her arm about the wizard.

A few moments passed in silence. Then they heard a soft giggle and an: "Awww! Cute!"

Edwin closed his eyes momentarily in relief, and then looked at her thankfully. Imoen winked at him.

"Well... I guess if they aren't using this extra bed, I can borrow it?" Alora asked the air hopefully. "Yeah, I don't have any money and the inn is so full! I'll thank them in the morning!"

Imoen blinked in surprise. Edwin tensed, opening his eyes wide and nearly loosing a loud curse, his face creasing in disbelief. They heard humming, disrobing, and the squeaking of bed springs.

Edwin looked pathetically and apologetically up at his roommate. Imoen quirked a brow, silently telling him just how hilariously bad this plan had been. Then she rolled her eyes and shifted as if to eject him from the bed. This was his problem and he could deal with it, heh. But Edwin grabbed onto her arm frantically and gave a tiny shake of his head.

Imoen regarded him with annoyance. Then she gave a dramatic eye roll and a shrug, and settled in to unabashedly snuggle him. Imoen was a _consummate_ snuggler, and had always slept better when she had someone to sleepover with. That had been Aegis, until recent months. Her mentor would do quite nicely! Muahahah!

Edwin cringed; and if he had not been drunk she could have expected he might be incapable of sleeping so close to another living being. He held his arms awkwardly close to himself, as if trying not to touch her.

After a moment, he heaved a slow, mute sigh; leaned his head back into the pillow; and closed his eyes. Sleep, at least, came swiftly enough.

* * *

...

Gods. Totally do whatever they want. 'Specially the evil ones.  
Hopefully this explains why Gorion is a little fuzzy on exactly _what_ to tell you about your mum :l

Ah Edwin. Isn't it good to know you can count on someone? :)


	27. Insert Transition Here

This chapter just refused to write itself. I must have done 30 different drafts and it just wasn't coming XD. I have had a lot of similar problems getting stuck lately. Its weird, I'm like simultaneously angry I'm writing 'unnecessary scenes' and totally uninspired to write 'filler' and yet I'm writing it anyway because Alora was way too exciting and we need to calm down and shift moods back for Ulcaster XD.

Imoen is definitely fronting the story right now. I accept that :) She just wants to be written, and I'm liking the resolution of some of these other character arcs before getting back to Aegis. It's not like CHARNAME is the only big important Bhaalspawn, after all!

* * *

_Winthrop found Gorion sitting beside the altar of the main chapel, looking down at a basket by his feet. The vampire hunter paused, frowning at the sight; immediately he could tell something was wrong. A moment later he hurried forward, listening for any traps, monsters, or disruptions._

_"Gorion?" he asked._

_"Smoke and mirrors," the aasimar said quietly._

_Withrop was startled by the wizard's tone of voice. He hurried up alongside the mage and glanced down. The basket was empty. "Gorion, what happened?"_

_"Lullorin was here," the mage answered. "She was my vampire."_

_Winthrop's brow furrowed. Then his eyes widened. "What?" he asked quietly; not because he was confused by the metaphor, but because he demanded further elaboration._

_"When she pretended to offer the souls to Lathander, she was offering them to Bhaal. The child she was pregnant with, was a Bhaalspawn. She picked our targets; sacrificing a few priests to keep the Harpers' from interfering in ways that mattered. Everything we did this last year and a half, we did according to Bhaal's will."_

_"You've... you've checked that this is true with every bit of magic you have?" the vampire hunter asked quietly._

_Gorion nodded._

_A long and agonizing silence passed between them. Then Winthrop took in a slow breath. "The... Gorion, the rest of us are still here. As ready and eager to do good as we ever were."_

_The aasimar looked up at him slowly._

_"I know... I know you need time to grieve. Believe me. But we've found the Bhaalspawn children. You... you need to decide what we do now. You need to decide what comes next."_

_"How can I decide anything? When my decisions led to this?" he whispered._

_Winthrop hated to be saying this because it was cruel, but it was also the truth. "You are our leader, Gorion. We depend on you to make decisions even at the worst times. Even in times of failure."_

_The magus considered this and then slowly began to stand. He was clutching a naked bone dagger in one hand. "I need to get this to Waterdeep," he told Winthrop._

_"Of course- wait, now?"_

_Gorion nodded. "Yes. Or else risk sending them all to Bhaal. Hold out for twenty-four hours here, Winthrop... There is a magus in the city who has such rapid transportation magic available. I will be back as soon as I am able."_

* * *

_"Gorion?" Khelben blinked in surprise, looking up from his research as he felt the aasimar enter the tower. He stood, setting aside a book, and waited for the younger magus to reach him. One look at the younger man's face was all it took for Khelben to understand that something had gone terribly wrong. He stepped forward quickly, reaching out to touch the aasmiar's shoulder, but Gorion lifted up a naked bone dagger and proffered it out._

_"Lullorin is dead," Gorion told him. "This dagger was compromised, but I believe it still contains the soul of her newborn Bhaalspawn. I want it released immediately. To Mystra, to Lathander; I don't care; just so long as it is safe."_

_Khelben gaped at him for a moment and then quickly ushered him forward. "Sit, I will get hold of someone immediately. What the hells happened, Gorion? No, don't tell me. Save it for once this has been handled."_

_Gorion nodded and waited quietly. Patiently._

_.._

* * *

Aegis couldn't sleep. Part of this was because Aegis was the default, can-room-with-anyone wildcard; and Shar-Teel snored. Another part was because Aegis just didn't sleep very well without Xzar. Now, Aegis had never considered herself terribly depraved or bawdy, but her partner was missing. She was justifiably uncomfortable, both mentally and physically.

With Monataron's betrayal not that long ago, it was difficult to feel certain her necromancer would ever come back to her. But then stranger things had happened. Like Ajantis and Viconia volunteering to room together. Ajantis had sworn Viconia to a verbal oath not to molest him physically or verbally while they were bunking together. Viconia had laughed in his face and then agreed to his terms and shaken on it.

Bah. Thinking about all these different things weren't helping her sleep. At least by the snoring, Aegis could know Shar-Teel was most definitely asleep.

Eventually, she ended up hugging her pillow to her chest and glumly wondering if she might borrow Xan. No, never mind. Aegis was frequently under a certain amount of _tension_ that poor Xans and their ilk ought not be subjected to.

A tap came at the shutter and Aegis nearly leaped out of her bed. Warily, she grabbed up her battle axe and then slowly approached the window. She unlocked the shudders and pushed them open, only to see a hatchet being held down into the frame. Oh! She set down the battleaxe and leaned out of the inn window, twisting to look over to the side. Kivan was sitting on the roof with his legs looped over the edge of the slate singles.

[Hello,] she greeted. He offered the hatchet without saying a word. She looked at it and then took it from him gently, with reverence. [Thank you. It... it means a lot to me.]

He didn't quite look at her, lost in thought.

[... Can I join you?] Kivan looked doubtfully at her. She smirked, settling the axe gently down within her room and then stepping out into the window frame. She would never be _quite_ as graceful as Imoen or an elf, but she had grown up a rambunctious child in a fortress. She could _certainly_ climb out of a window. The elf watched her with some surprise as she heaved herself carefully up onto the shingles and then found a place to sit.

They sat for awhile in silence, looking up at the moon and enjoying the silence.

[Can't sleep?] he wondered aloud.

[Worrying too much,] she sighed. [It's hard to keep so many people safe.]

He tilted his hood back a little with a thumb. [Mother Lion?]

She grinned. [And I need to have at _least_ one cub on hand to sleep easy.] He smirked and considered the response. It seemed to imply more than she was saying.

[Do you have a lover?]

Aegis looked up at the moon. [I think so. You wouldn't approve. No one does. He had to leave for awhile.]

Kivan was quiet.

[Would you like me to ramble a bit, as an excuse to hear a friendly voice talking in elvish?] The ranger looked at her in surprise. [I get lonely, too. Even surrounded by people.] She thought about what topic to speak on for awhile. Then she decided to tell him stories about Candlekeep, and growing up a Nature Childe within the walls of a fortress.

* * *

Xan was surprised when the door opened soon after he knocked. Then he blanched at who had answered.

"I must have the wrong room," the enchanter decided.

"Were you looking for Eddy and Immy? No, they're still sleeping!"

Xan stared at her for a very long moment, a growing sense of horror welling in his stomach. Had Imoen simply taken stock of the overcrowded inn and offered Alora a place to bunk? Risky; Alora could try to get herself recruited into the party!

Or had Edwin actually...? The idea dazed him. Even the Red Wizard seemed to have _something_ resembling standards.

"Alora... please answer me, this is very important: which one of them were you sharing a bed with?" Xan asked slowly.

The halfling giggled and answered, "Neither!"

Xan sighed in relief.

"They were sleeping with each other, so I borrowed the extra bed!"

The enchanter nearly had a seizure. _Imoen!?_

* * *

Edwin blinked rapidly as someone shook his arm. He glanced up at Xan and then winced in the morning light. "Migraine," he muttered irritably, shifting to sit up and rub his eyes. Only he couldn't move much. In fact, one of his arms was numb. Frowning, Edwin looked down. His chin brushed Imoen's hair, and he observed that she was still wrapped about him like her namesake with her temple resting upon his collar.

The Red Wizard shifted slightly, more perplexed in expression than offended. Then he stiffened abruptly and looked up at Xan. "The halfling?" he asked frantically.

"I have charmed her and convinced her to head for Baldur's Gate on foot," Xan replied. "If you both hurry, we should be able to depart Beregost before the enchantment wears off.

Edwin sighed, relieved. "I forgive you for the latrine incident," he told Xan in all seriousness.

"What happened last night?" the enchanter asked, glancing at Imoen.

"I do not want to talk about that. Ever. Sacrifices were made for the greater good. There were judgement calls. (Why does her hair smell like strawberries? Hmm. Unimportant.) Now get out." Imoen shifted and Edwin winced hard as her thigh crushed into something which had nothing whatsoever to do with a woman's proximity and everything to do with a need to use the bathroom. Still wincing, he pushed her leg back down.

Xan lifted a brow. Edwin scowled because the enchanter was a man, an elf, and certainly ought to know better. Xan laughed quietly. The situation was universal, healthy, and unrelated to arousal; and it had been making mornings look awkward for men across the Realms for tens of thousands of years. Sleep-walkers suffered the worst, no doubt.

"Get _out,_" the Thayvian sighed, shifting slowly. "I'll wake her _after_ I've extricated myself."

"That is possible?" Xan looked doubtful as he turned to head towards the doorway.

"The _Kwefai_ could sleep through a tarrasque stampede," Edwin muttered, rearranging limbs as if handling a spindly bag of vegetables.

* * *

The group was sans Kivan, but Aegis maintained her hope that the ranger might resurface again. They were happily killing ogrillions, hobgoblins, skeletons, and even shambling zombie mounds when they finally found a narrow path leading up to the old Ulcaster Ruins plateau. Ajantis was having a splendid time smiting evil, and working very well in tandem with Viconia.

Aegis and Kagain were discussing axe throwing strategies, and Aegis was practicing her throw leading into every confrontation. When it came to education concerning axes and hammers, there were few who could do better than a dwarf. Dynaheir was attempting to have a conversation with Edwin about the weather; but the conjurer was turning every attempt back on her like a barb. Xan was trying to teach Branwen elvish, but it was clear she had no head for languages.

"So! Ajantis!" Imoen giggled, hopping up to the paladin and nabbing his arm at the elbow. "Are you feeling better?"

The squire was surprised by this friendliness, but took it well. "I have not been so terribly injured, though I thank you for asking."

"Oh, I meant, are you feeling better about traveling with such an eclectic group of professionals?" she giggled.

"Ah. Viconia has proven herself a trustworthy companion. I will reserve judgement."

"That's the ticket!"

"We... we have not had much opportunity to meet, Lady Imoen," he realized. "All I know of you has been spoken by others."

"Lady? Ha! I'm no lady, but thanks for being a sweetheart. I'm our traps, stealth, doors, and treasure box expert!"

"A dungeoneer," he realized.

"I'm a thief," she admitted with a laugh. "But I'm the cute kind!"

Ajantis cleared his throat. Then he blinked, noticing the fiendish bat which had just woken up on her shoulder. It immediately made him uncomfortable. "Stealing is... wrong, milady."

"Depends who from!" she teased, baiting a reaction. "I like to think of myself as a force of karma!"

Thieves being forces of karma was against everything Ajantis held sacred. He wanted to press the conversation, and the counter argument verged on the tip of his tongue. He bit back on it, reflected for a moment, and then decided to place this situation carefully in a mental folder titled: 'Address this when/if it becomes an issue.' Imoen waited to see if he'd respond. Then she giggled and tossed his stolen coin purse back to him. Ajantis jumped slightly, catching it.

"You're alright," she praised. "Tell me about your Order. Only skip all the adjectives, tell it to me straight!"

"The... adjectives?" Ajantis was as schooled as any noble lad, but hearing someone refer to the parts of speech in such a way was new.

"Yes! The adjectives, they make sentences too long and I could get bored. For example, if you begin with: The Order of the Radiant Heart is an ancient and glorious order of utmost respect, nobility, and radiance- well then you've gone and thrown forty words together and not told me a thing. But if you say: The Order of the Radiant Heart is a church, then I will totally understand."

Ajantis made a very puzzled expression as he tried to figure out how he could possibly fulfill this request, especially when the Order meant so much to him and it really was an ancient and glorious order of utmost respect and nobility. "The... The order is not a church, exactly. It is a group of knights across Faerun. We are based in Amn. Our gods are primarily Torm, Tyr, and Heml, although Lathander and others contribute members. We are, um, old, yes, and also selective."

"What do you do?"

"We employ ourselves against evil, milady. We often are called on in wars, against brigands, in the face of cults loose in the city; we may be called upon to defend villages or rescue hostages; and we are often involved in conflicts concerning undead, demons, or evil mages."

"So... you are kinda like a morally stringent mercenary group?" Imoen hazarded.

Ajantis was quiet for a moment, a look of dismay on his face. "Do... do you fluster people _intentionally_ milady?"

"Yes," she agreed, patting his arm. "But not maliciously, and I will lose respect for questions left unanswered!"

"One supposes we are closer to a guild," Ajantis allowed slowly.

"Like a thieves' guild?" Imoen piped up.

The paladin decided to give up taking offense at her terminology. "We are a league driven by what is right and moral-"

"More like a cult," Xan muttered.

Ajantis shot the enchanter a dirty look, as Imoen finally figured out what the two of them ever argued about. "The Order brings peace where there is suffering, freedom to the oppressed, and prosperity to the people. Hold your tongue, wizard; do not slander such righteous knights so."

Xan raised his voice, "Oh _do_ continue to be so narrow minded, Ajantis, I can't see it turning catastrophic with your unusual choice in roommate." The elf glanced over at Imoen. "The Order has very little patience for moral grayness. As with most such groups, they are beloved by people who have nothing to hide; but they can be be merciless when faced with 'corruption.'"

"That's enough," the paladin warned. "To accuse the Order of cruelty or slaughter is laughable. We do what is necessary against evil and for the sake of the realm!"

Xan shook his head. "I can think of a collection of examples to illustrate problems with the Order, off-hand," he explained to Imoen. "Let us take how the Order champions 'good' legal systems, and let us focus on its headquarters in Amn since that is where Ajantis is from. First of all, in Amn, magic of all forms is believed to exert a deviant and corrupting influence. The Order trains 'Inquisitors', which are paladins hand-trained hounds for downing unruly wizards-"

Ajantis was glaring holes in Xan's head; the paladin's mentor, Keldorn Firecam, _was_ an inquisitor. "Do you have a point?" he interrupted bitterly. "I am not insensitive to cultural differences. The lady herself is studying magic, but I do not insult her on the matter!"

Xan looked up at the paladin. "Many types of men kill to get their way; but I find _romanticizing_ it very ugly."

"Rom-!" Ajantis clenched his jaw for a moment before grinding out: "Do you not have anyone else to talk to, or anything else to do?"

..

* * *

When they came upon the Ulcaster ruins, there were definitely zombies to be had, crawling out of the ruins. They seemed dazed in the daylight hours, and the group made short work of them. As they searched the wrecked and shattered mage towers for an entrance, enjoying the daylight hours, Aegis got a perplexed look about her face. She paused abruptly, turning her head left, and then right.

"I could swear..." she puzzled out, feeling something was quite amiss.

Then they heard a polite cough, and a ghost materialized directly in front of her. Aegis blinked. Ajantis lifted up his sword. Viconia grabbed the paladin's arm. "Wait, fool, it's not attacking!" she hissed. Ajantis nearly fell over himself and then looked at her, perplexed.

"Um..." Aegis hesitated. "Hello?"

"It is... it is lost..." the ghost sighed, barely visible in the dim lighting. "The knowledge of the past is lost! Lost to the gloom we precipitated, we brought upon ourselves... Lost to the darkness, the history thereof..."

Aegis glanced back at her clerics, wishing one of them would handle this. Imoen had finally noticed what was happening and shrieked at the top of her lungs. Edwin outright slapped her to knock some sense into her. "Stop that!" he insisted, grabbing her by the collar and shaking her. "We are going into an undead infested ruins far below the earth, and if you are screaming at every opportunity you are going to get us _killed_ you insufferable Monkey!"

Imoen stared at him, slack-jawed. Then she bobbed her head slowly up and down. Dynaheir separated them with a glare at the Thayvian. "Don't you _dare_ hit her-!" Ajantis glanced back towards them.

"What!? Spare me your maternal instincts, little witch, I barely-" Edwin snarled.

"The book-" the ghost mumbled.

"Book!?" Imoen perked up. Then she bolted forward away from both wizards, hopping all the directly up in front of the ghost and looking curiously up at it. "What book?" she asked eagerly.

"The History of the Darkness... it must be saved... preserved... find it below... return it to these hands..."

"Absolutely not!" Imoen exclaimed. "If this book is so important, it can't stay with you! You are _dead_! No, no, you shall have to change your mind. Where else could we possibly bring it?"

"But the book-"

* * *

Imoen and the ghost spent the better part of the next thirty minutes arguing about exactly what would be done with this hypothetical book in Ulcaster that no one had even found yet. The ghost seemed incredibly confused and very airy, as if it could not exactly keep track of the conversation or easily remember what had transpired even seconds before.

The rest of the party backed up to watch in confusion. Shar-Teel was staring in irritated bewilderment. She glanced at Kagain, who shrugged and picked his nails. Branwen and Xan both looked at one another and were amused. Viconia raised a brow and then muttered in drow about foolish children.

Ajantis shook his head in disbelief. "We should be putting this soul to rest," he said slowly.

"I think we plan to; just the less pointy way," Aegis offered. The paladin shook his head again, and then turned and came up to where Dynaheir and Edwin were arguing.

"Are you _mad_, woman? I merely startled her out of her shrieking fit," the Thayvian growled. "I did us all a favor!"

Dynaheir glared daggers through Edwin's head, but Ajantis answered him: "You are unkind to Imoen," the paladin disapproved.

Edwin stared at them both in disbelief for a moment, baffled by where this was coming from. Then he shook his head. {I have no _idea_ what you are talking about,} he confessed, and he didn't.

"Thou strucketh her!" Dynaheir exclaimed, incredibly offended.

"If I 'strucketh' Imoen you would know; you would smell the _burning_. (Though why in the nine hells I would injure my ally and apprentice when there are so many fools loitering about waiting for a good fireball remains beyond my ken... Hmm...)"_  
_

Ajantis tensed and glowered. Dynaheir's eyes widened. "Burn-!? Thou doest not get to bully whomever thy pleases!"

"Ye gods woman, this is hardly the first time I have cuffed her upside the head for stupidity or been elbowed by her for some imagined slight. You yourself backhanded me across the face for a comment on your chemise while my arm was crippled! (Perhaps you two baboons should spend considerably less time together...)"

"You dare defend violence against a _woman_?" Ajantis hissed. "You are a _man_, and as such it is your responsibility to-" Abruptly the paladin was punched so hard across the face that it nearly knocked his helmet off. He lurched to the side and numerous party members twisted about to see what had happened to him. Confused, Ajantis winced and faced his assailant, rubbing blood from his nose and his newly split lip.

"Did you just say something, pretty boy?" Shar-Teel grinned, cracking her knuckles. As much as helping Edwin rated in the negatives on her to-do list, this opportunity to bully Ajantis was too much for her to pass up. Likewise, while Edwin would have never requested help from the crazy woman, he could easily enjoy watching her beat up Helmites. "Something about girls and hitting hard, eh?"

The paladin sputtered an inarticulate reply, deflating slightly. Dynaheir frowned at the woman and placed a reassuring hand on Ajantis' shoulder. "Shar-Teel... that was inappropriate," the witch told her. "Ajantis would never strike at you or anyone else without reason."

The fightress laughed and spit to the side. "I had a reason! Not my problem he won't punch back," she retorted. "Wuss of a knight."

"Fools. All of you," Edwin muttered, trying to get away from the whole conversation.

Imoen concluded her discussion with the ghost and came back up to the party. "We must rescue a book called 'The History of the Darkness' and bring it to him for review. Then we will hold on to the book until such date as we can bring it to Candlekeep."

Aegis made a face. "Candlekeep? We're going home?" she asked in a quiet voice. 'Home' seemed strained when she said it.

"Well obviously not right now, it's no safer there than it was the day we left!" Imoen laughed. "But maybe one day! Also, he says the entrance is over there! He said adventurers used to go in that way but some white pillars collapsed over it and no one has been able to find the entrance since then. I asked him if he thought you, Shar-Teel, and Minsc could clear it and he seemed to feel it was possible. Come on, let's go!"

* * *

As they went forward to investigate the fallen pillars, a bewildered Edwin joined Imoen's side. He murmured the words to a _Burning Hands_ spell and Imoen yelped when he reached over and grabbed her arm. "Edwin! Edwin, what the hell-!?"

Dynaheir sputtered the words to a _Shocking Grasp_ and Edwin turned see the Wychlaran directly behind him, holding her hand out threateningly. He tilted his head to the side and then looked to Imoen. "I wanted to give her something _real_ to complain about," he confessed. "She was being incredibly annoying over nothing."

Dynaheir was on the verge of attacking when she realized she smelled no burning flesh. Imoen looked more surprised than injured. Frowning, Dynaheir glanced down at where Edwin was touching the girl, and realized the skin was unharmed.

"It's just warm! He modified the spell," Imoen sighed. "Edwin, what is wrong with you?" she laughed. "Why would you randomly waltz up and 'burn' me?"

"Yes, _why_ would I do that?" Edwin questioned the Wychlaran with a smug leer. "A good reason escapes me."

"Perhaps... perhaps Ajantis and I overreacted," Dynaheir admitted, dispersing her electrical spell.

"Perhaps you did," Edwin sniffed with a haughty grin.

"What are both of you talking about?" Imoen complained, not understanding.

Edwin shrugged. "She and the paladin seemed to feel I had injured you," he decided. He looked down at her after a brief pause. "Er, I didn't, did I?"

The thief giggled. "Edwin, you hit like a total wizard." He glowered. "What? Well I suppose I could sit on you eating doughnuts when you do your morning push-ups. Would that help?"_  
_

..

* * *

As they waited for the warriors on the team to dig their way down, Xan approached Imoen with this to say in elvish: [You need a spellbook.]

[What?] she blinked.

[You need a spellbook so that it does not look suspicious that you don't have a spellbook,] Xan explained. Imoen frowned puzzled at him. The enchanter almost-smiled. [It has not escaped my attention that your relationship with magic is unique.]

[Xan... I don't... I don't want to talk about magic. You know that.]

[Then don't.] He waved a hand dismissively. [I am sure your mentor has advised you to _secrecy, _foolish though it may be, and you are quite guarded with how many people you let past your anti-educational armor. I accept these things. But you still need a spellbook.]

Imoen sighed gratefully. She really liked Dynaheir, but sometimes the witch woman just got on her nerves. Mostly about Edwin. That was understandable; they were sort of ancient enemies or something. It was refreshing to have Xan on _her_ side, though. [So why haven't you ever nagged me about picking a terrible teacher?] Imoen wondered.

Xan considered the question. [He _is_ a terrible teacher, Imoen. He is a talented, arrogant fool, with no patience or empathy. But I am not convinced you want or even need a _teacher._ You learn quite well on your own. No, I think you want a _mentor_; Someone who can understand and answer complex questions, out of context, halfway through your learning process. Who can judge precisely where you are at and set benchmarks just within your reach. And who will push you just a little bit harder than you are willing to go.]

Imoen tilted her head to the side. [And Edwin can do that...?] she wondered.

[I suspect Edwin is _learning_ to do that,] Xan corrected, [because he enjoys tutoring you. He has a knack for it; he thinks swiftly. To keep up with him you must be quite gifted; and I am sure he realizes the value of that. If you should take up an interest in history, or any other subject in which you have fewer natural talents, I would recommend you seek out a real teacher like Dynaheir.]

[Well why is it you don't think Dyn-dyn could 'mentor' me?] Imoen was curious at his reasoning. [And what about you? You're both great wizards.]

[We are also remarkably different _people_, Imoen; and we each approach magic differently. Not everyone learns best under the same ideal.] He considered the question for a moment. [If you are not _too_ adverse to the discussion of magic, perhaps we can conduct an experiment?]

[What kind?]

[I would ask you to formulate a question about _Mirrored Eyes_, which is a spell all three of us wizards have recently transcribed. Ask the question to myself, to Dynaheir, and to Edwin, and let us see who is able to answer to your satisfaction. What say you?]

[I don't want to talk to Dynaheir about magic. She'll ask me questions.]

[I shall take care of that for you, my dear purple friend. Do you have a question in mind?] Xan watched her as Imoen thought about the experiment.

* * *

Even though Xan guessed Imoen could form a magical query spontaneously, it still amazed him that she did so.

[Okay...] Imoen drawled. [I'll bite. Here's my question: Why does the fourth arc of the spell have a gap in it where a vision sigil ought to be? On the, um, well the way you scribed it it would be the right side, between the the shield sequence and the reversal sequence.]

Xan blinked at the question, intrigued. [I have absolutely no idea. But I shall attempt to work out the answer while you ask the others.] He lifted his voice. "Dynaheir! Imoen is going to ask you a question. Please do not interrogate her on her magical education, this is For Oghma!"

Imoen raised a brow but nodded and followed Xan over to Dynaheir. The witch laughed when she had heard the query. "Is it really necessary to ask me that sort of thing aloud? It would be much simpler if thou could simply show me what thy art working on."

"Now, Dynaheir, we are in the midst of an experiment," Xan chuckled. "Let us see if we can figure out what she is talking about. We both have the spell, after all; and she is studying one of Thaylantyr's scrolls, the same as we did.""

Imoen was not entirely sure what this would explain because Edwin needed to hunt for answers the same as any wizard, but she hopped off to pose her query to the Thayvian. He turned to her and listened for a moment, his brows drawing together in thought as he followed her words. When she was done he rubbed his chin, and looked out puzzled at nothing for a moment as he considered the question. Then he picked up his spellbook and flicked quickly through it.

Imoen watched Edwin trace over the page before him with his nails. He mouthed words silently, his eyes half-closed. It dawned on Imoen, looking up at her mentor, that Edwin _could_ visualize parts of the spell in his mind. He jumped into the problem quickly and accurately, even though he was unprepared. A moment later he nodded.

Behind her, Dynaheir leaned closer to Xan and gestured to a sigil on her own page and then pulling out a sheet of fresh paper and summoning up a quill to scratch some notes. "This... this is a... a _remarkably_ astute question," the witch said slowly. "And incredibly nuanced... Though this shouldn't be getting in the way of her _learning_ the spell... I wish she would let us help tutor her; I imagine I could construct _quite_ the interesting lesson about these details if given time. And... hmm... I should write this down..."

Xan blinked curiously at the glimpse the witch was offering him into her strange Wychlaran spellwork. "Your notes are fascinating, Dynaheir. I would be _honored_ to trade spellbook glances with you at future dates."

"Well! Perhaps that can be arranged. Ah? Thou have _lovely_ penmanship. Hmm. Shall we get to work?"

"I'm back," Imoen piped up. "He said it would cause blindness. Which makes total sense 'cause obviously the eyes can't mirror everything, or sight wouldn't get in!"

Dynaheir blinked slowly. Then she looked at Xan. The enchanter was almost compelled to laugh. [He has his uses, then,] the elf admitted to Imoen. [Though so do we. If you do not mind, my dear friend, come seek us out whenever you require _lengthy_ discourse on magical theory.]

Imoen hesitated a moment. Then a glow seemed to enter her face and she smiled at Xan almost trustingly, which nearly put a smile on his own face it was so beautiful. [Aye, I will do that,] she told him, and then hopped off leaving him to explain all of what had just happened to Dynaheir.

* * *

- Mama Khelben will make everything better Rion, you'll see :(

- Xan! Your Neutrality is showing!

- Hmm, at least five characters in this party have some form of sexism issue...

- Wizard Catfights  
Edwin's Physical Scores: [STR 9| DEX 10| CON 16]  
Dynaheir's Physical Scores: [STR 11| DEX 13| CON 16]

Aegis "Dyn! you should challenge him to a boxing match to settle this once and for all!"  
Dyn "Ah?" *Pulls on fighting gloves*  
Edwin "o.O'! Eh... eheh... um... hmm..." *Flees*

- Viconia & Edwin lacking strength makes sense because they are both nobility XD. Viconia should have a little more because she lived alone in the underdark and fended for herself. Dynaheir meanwhile is a one-with-nature styled witch. In the meanwhile, to avoid getting any weaker, Edwin _absolutely_ does a minimal number of push-ups any morning he's not on the road. His decadent personality means not exercising would have consequences, and Mulan people are supposed to be thin XD.

- Doughnut-Eating Thieves: Explaining Edwin's +1 Strength Increase in BG2 XD

- For Oghma! = For Science!

- Ding! Xan: Level Up! Now +1 to Auxiliary Tutor, please :)


	28. Fissures

So Ulcaster was boring. For this story, Ulcaster is totally Hogwarts + Mines of Moria. Ja. It should takes maybe 3-4 chapters. There are going to be Big Events. o.o

Also, what was with the vampyric wolves? It's a freaking haunted ruins! Bah, we're too low level to handle real undead, is that it?! I'll show you undead, I will! Ha!

..

* * *

_The dagger was sanctified and given up to Mystra. The ritual was different than Lullorin had imagined, and much more subtle. When it was done, Gorion asked Khelben if it was possible to ensure beyond doubt that the Bhaalspawn's soul had reached the goddess safely._

_"Her high priestess has just delivered it," Khelben responded, confused, "and says it has."_

_Gorion was quiet a moment. "I would like at least three separate opinions on the matter," he answered quietly._

_"Rion... what happened?" the archmagus asked, turning fully to face him. _

_"I have recently learned that none of the other souls made it Lathander," he responded. "The ritual was sabotaged. Please. Khelben. If you do not want me to crumble where I stand, I _must know_ for certain."_

_His mentor was quiet for a moment before nodding. He began casting divinations and communication spells, and reached out to obtain this evidence Gorion required. When the delegation was done, he turned his attention back to his pupil. "Will you tell me what has happened? You say Lullorin is dead?"_

_The aasimar seemed to rock slightly as if living in a waking daze; as if only half his mind were present. He nodded hesitantly after a moment. "The child was to be ours," he told Khelben. "She was my lover. We shared a bed. We shared a... a home."_

_"... Gorion," the Chosen murmured in sympathy and dismay. "Why didn't you say anything...?"_

_"It was going to be a surprise," he answered. "It was; not the sort I wanted. Lullorin was compromised. The child she carried was a Bhaalspawn, and she... she died in birthing it. I-I need that baby to be safe." He heaved then, as if he were going to vomit, and Khelben quickly grasped his arm to steady him. "A-as safe as anything I've murdered _can_ be," the aasimar whispered brokenly._

_"Gods above," Khelben whispered. "Come on. You need to sit."_

* * *

_"What are you going to do?" Blackstaff asked when Gorion had been through two whole cups of incredibly bitter sweet, poignant, Klamath and Papaya tea._

_"I need the dagger properly enchanted. The others are waiting in the Temple of Bhaal. I need to rejoin them," Gorion answered, sipping on his third cup of tea. _

_Khelben grimaced. He had been half against this entire scheme to begin with, and if Elminster of Esmerae had been there at present, he most likely would have tried to throttle them. "I can send the dagger without you," he told the aasimar. "This has not gone to plan. You have borne much more than what was expected of you; and what was _expected_ was already too severe. I and the other Chosen need to re-convene and you... you should be left out of it this time."_

_Ice blue eyes lifted up to the archmagus as Gorion lowered the tea cup. He was quiet for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he shook his head. "After the mistakes I made, do you really believe I can just walk away, Khelben? That I could forget what happened, or mend from it with time? That I could forget all the blood on my hands served no purpose? I need to _do_ something. To set things right. I need to see this through."_

_"There is no end for decades, Gorion," Khelben frowned. "How will you know when you've seen it 'through'?"_

_"At the very least, I must give a spirit to deliverance for each one I've damned," Gorion answered. "It won't be enough, but at least it will be something. In the temple I learned there might be another child connected to Lullorin, and I intend to pursue that lead. I have also yet to encounter a child who wasn't fully tainted."_

_Khelben sighed, shaking his head. He wanted to intervene and prohibit Gorion, but he didn't know where to even begin. "If Lullorin was compromised, do you think any other members of your group might also have been? Lullorin was even a Harper..."_

_Gorion frowned._

_"Tallix," both men realized in unison._

* * *

The entryway to Ulcaster was not grandious. It was a cave system that had formed around the crushed and long-buried towers. Mazelike crevasses, staircases, and the broken bodies of ancient structures helped lead the way downward. Near the entrance however were the bodies of three withered individuals surrounded by the burnt and butchered corpses of the undead.

The collapsed entrance had kept them from escaping. Perhaps they had been tired and injured at the end of a long spelunking trip. Like as not, they had loot on them.

"These poor, valiant souls," Ajantis murmured. "Trapped inside and slain just a few yards from freedom..." Xan sighed, and wondered if Ajantis knew that a significant number of prisoners and arrested persons died just 'a few yards from freedom'.

"By the armor this one's wearing, they were no green warriors," Branwen noted. "We'll avenge them by fighting twice as hard. Though let's be a mite cautious; they can't have been taken down easily."

Aegis asked Minsc and Branwen to creep ahead and see if they could spy trouble ahead, whilst they checked the bodies. Imoen, of course, was on point for looting. She was ruffling through the mage's things before anyone had so much as gotten their bearings.

"What are you doing!?" Ajantis protested.

"Um, checking the bodies for good stuff. Why?" their thief inquired.

The paladin was appalled. "Such treatment for the dead! We should be burying these poor souls, and any affects ought to be interred with them or sent to their kin." Aegis and Imoen suddenly had massive flashbacks to Khalid and Montaron.

"Oh?" Xan drawled. "But looting hobgoblins is... fine?" Edwin chuckled; Alora wasn't the only thing they could agree on.

"That is entirely different! Those hobgoblins were monstrous scum and bandits; and they had been our enemies when we slew them! These poor souls were no different than ourselves!"

Kagain was about to explode. "Are... yas... _daft_, boy? Loot is loot! The dead don't got no right ta things they ain't usin'!"

"You slight their loved ones to say so," the paladin retorted.

"Are yas really such a moron? We's down here tas gear for a life-or-death ho-down with bandits, and yas want us ta throw aside our deserts?"

"We do not _deserve_ anything belonging to these people-"

"I'm gonna hurl. And then kick this pup's ass halfway ta the Spine of the World."

"Ajantis," Aegis interjected before things got too far out of hand. "Every adventurer who comes down here knows the risks. We all understand we either get out with loot or we contribute to it. In fact, a few men living in Beregost made a good living just by delving deep enough in these ruins to find corpses of missing parties, and then pawning the goods off at the smithy."

Ajantis grimaced. "That they do this thing doesn't make it right."

"Er, well, it's kinda an accepted part of adventuring life," Aegis responded. "If you're dead, someone else needs your gear more than you do. And technically speaking, even if you or your kin do end up losing equipment somewhere, you typically post a bounty and _pay_ to have it returned to you. There's quite an element of risk, time, and energy in fetching this stuff back... Though you're welcomed to _try_ with any small personal items we might come across."

Edwin went still for a moment, looking perplexed. He tapped his nails together thoughtfully and then made a startled choke. "I am an _adventurer_?" he asked, sounding horrified. Imoen perked up, blinking in bemusement. Then she twisted about to look at him. "Ugh... That sounds plebeian," he complained. "Could I not have hired some poor fools to do this for me...? (This really is no place for a man of my stature...)"

The thief broke out laughing, returning to her looting. Then she gave a delighted coo and lifted up a pouch full of gems. "Contributions to the Archmagi Robe and full plate fund!"

Ajantis took in a slow breath and then looked to Aegis. "These... these bodies are close to the surface. On our return journey, at least you must permit me to bury them properly."

"Bleeding-hearted idiot," Kagain wheezed, coming up to help Imoen with the looting.

"I agree with our paladin," Viconia told them. "With time, the latent negative energy will revive them. It makes perfect sense to doll out some holy water and blessings."

As this was one of the few positive reactions he'd gotten from anyone all week, Ajantis perked up a good three inches and then smiled at Viconia and nodded. "There will be other bodies. I shall endeavor to at least bless those that are deeper in."

"Prudent," the drow sniffed. "Now pay attention, male, because the way I 'turn' undead is quite different than you, and I want you to be aware of it so that we do not waste tactical resources. Or time." Being alone in the Underdark was dangerous. If a _talented_ drow offended their Matron and survived her retribution, it was common for another house to extend an offer of protection in exchange for unquestioned service. With Kagain, Xan, and Shar-Teel all taking shots at the paladin, this was the perfect time for Viconia to ensnare Ajantis' loyalty.

They finished the looting. The mage's spellbook went to Dynaheir first. Edwin scowled, but he _was_ second in line for magical materials now at least.

As the party started deeper into the broken towers, Imoen hopped up beside him and slipped a metallic object into his hand. A ring. _So! A thief always gets the first pick of the loot, I see. _{Do you know what it does?} he asked her curiously.

{Seen one before,} she agreed, though he realized he ought to force the enchanter to teach her to _Identify_ items. Either way, he decided to don it, and then a predatory smile slipped over his face. A _Ring of Wizardry I_.

{Thank you, Monkey,} he purred contently.

..

* * *

They encountered a couple skeletons and other creatures of ill-repute as they descended their way into Ulcaster. The first few chambers were rather bare, and had clearly been stripped clean since the school's fall. It was awhile before they saw another recent corpse, and then everything got more exciting.

The group stepped out onto a balcony overlooking a large central chasm, and for a moment they were awed by what they saw. Barely visible in the light of their spells and torches, they could catch glimpses of a grandiose city of soaring towers, elegant halls, and arching bridges; twisting in tight-knit spirals down into the earth. The upper reaches had been smothered in earth and stone.

The buildings were constructed from a beautiful black marble with threads of green and flecks of orange. Here and there a lone tower jutted up and its oxidized copper shingles stood out brightly in the gloom. Many windows still had shattered fragments of green crystal glass still visible in lolling frames. Decayed and threadbare tapestry lolled from the sides of many a tower.

Imoen looked around, counting the major tapestries she could see. "This place is big! I think every school of magic might be represented by a tower," she observed. "But if so, the earth is occluding some, and one of them's collapsed. See?"

"The geometric spacing does imply the correct number of towers," Xan agreed. "All equally doomed, though they were. I suggest we stay away from 'Necromancy' should be prove able to identify it."

"Hmm," Aegis considered this. "I am contemplating being offended on Xzar's behalf..."

"This place must be really ancient!" Imoen giggled.

"Eh," Aegis shrugged. "Candlekeep's a thousand years older. Just significantly less haunted."

"Way to totally steal my excitement, Aegy. How was it destroyed?"

"An enormous and very sexy caster battle, between the entire school and a league of envious Calimshite mages," Aegis answered. "Calimshan liked to think it was the epicenter of learning back then. Still does. Anyway, both sides lost the fight. The Calimshites were defeated, but they'd sunk the school and killed off a significant chunk of its populace. In the end, I think Ulcaster went off to live the rest of his days as a hermit in the mountains somewhere."

"Really? _Wow_. Well, then there are going to be a lot of... weird things down here, aren't there?" Imoen leaned fear over the balcony to peer as low as she could. Aegis wasn't even looking towards her at the moment, but as if driven by some unknowable, sisterly, sixth sense; she reached over and grabbed hold of the thief's hood to keep her from falling over.

Dynhaier nodded. "Magic tends to do very strange things when a couple hundred wizards are overlapping their spells and getting cut-off mid-cast and so forth, all together in one spot. Not to mention the wizards probably had a great many experiments, enchantments, and strange creatures below; all of which have been unchecked for hundreds of years..."

"Hopefully we will find something useful," Edwin smirked. "Shall we proceed?"

"Hey!" Imoen announced, twisting about and looking up above them. "That looks shiny!" Then she had darted out of Aegis' grasp and was standing up on the railing. She hopped up, grabbing hold of a sculpture above them and hauling herself up to the next floor.

Edwin looked up at her kicking feet in dismay for a moment and then turned to the other two wizards. "Please tell me one of you knows _Feather Fall_?" Xan lifted his hand. "Of course you do. You know _every_ spell no one ever actually needs. (He probably even knows _Infravision_ and he is an elf...)" Xan's face lapsed into annoyance. "Well? Cast it on her."

"She should be fine," Aegis told them and then held out her arms. Before they could ask what she was doing, a pink maniac dropped into her arms with a squeal.

"Someone was stashing stuff up there between delves! Look!" She blew dust off the bags she was holding, revealed enchanted arrows, bolts, bullets, and a collection of gems and jewelry.

"Does everyone who comes down here _die_?" Ajantis asked, horrified. By Xan's expression, the paladin and enchanter had finally agreed on something. They were _doomed_!

"Until recently, everyone who approach Mutamin or went into Nashkel mines died," Aegis answered, putting Imoen on her feet. "So clearly we aren't 'everyone.'"

"No magic scrolls," Imoen considered. "I wonder if most people coming down here are only looking for enchanted items."

"Perhaps much of the paper has decayed beyond recognition," Dynaheir offered. "But not every group of adventurers has a buyer like Thaylantyr waiting to take every scrap of papyrus and vellum off of their hands for them. I suggest we don't become greedy. Let's limit our goal to finding this 'History of the Darkness;' I'm sure we'll find many things along the way."

"Sounds like a decent milestone," Aegis agreed. "But let's not _limit_ ourselves to that. Let's set our end goal at getting _out_ again. That seems to be the problem these other parties all neglected to resolve.

..

* * *

The dilapidated school's dangers came in several major forms. The first form of danger was the skeletons and zombies, which would utilize any weapons and armor they had died with, and which could be devilishly hard to kill when they ignored hits that would stagger a normal man. Aegis now sported a few flesh wounds from a skeleton that hadn't reeled backwards when she'd smashed its rib cage open. Furthermore, skeletons seemed to strike significantly faster than a man ought to have been capable of, which left few openings. She was learning that it was imperative to block or divert every swing of a weapon, and launch the counter-attack simultaneously.

The second source of danger was ghouls, which the party already had quite some experience with, but which they had never fought in such large numbers. The ghouls could successfully paralyze anyone if they managed skin-to-skin contact. Minsc and Aegis seemed highly resistant while raging, if not completely immune. Ghouls were unsteady on their feet but they could lunge forward with surprising speed once a target was within sight. They were irregular, fast, and heavy hitters. however they also had a tendency to overcompensate and they were slightly uncoordinated and inaccurate in their blows.

In short, ghouls had a very difficult time landing the first paralyzing shot, but once their prey was standing still they could rip it to shreds in seconds. The next source of danger were small indigo wraiths that resembled streamers of very dull, dark energy trailing behind veiled heads. Alone, they were fairly harmless; but in a battle they could flit up and wrap their sinuous bodies around an arm, a leg, or heavens' forbid a _neck_ and begin draining energy from their chosen target. Minsc's right arm was functional but numb. Xan was still rubbing his neck uncomfortably, and shivering at Branwen's side for warmth.

The fourth danger was of course infighting, as Ajantis desperately refrained from saying anything about the undead that Viconia was commandeering, and Dynaheir and Edwin argued about whether the latter had better invocations and Dynaheir was just there for auxiliary clean up duty.

The fifth was the architecture of the place.

* * *

Xzar was never going to forgive Aegis for having an undead adventure without him, the ranger realized. Well maybe he would; but only if she managed to tell the story with enough dramatic flourish and arm-waving. Perhaps she would designate Imoen the official teller of the Ulcaster story. They might try bringing back a few spell components as well, although no doubt most of her friends would judge her mad if she started collecting ghoul fingers.

Speaking of Xzar... The undead were giving Aegis a phenomenal opportunity to better understand the seal of _Protection from Evil _he'd left tattooed into her back. The necromancer had been very shifty about explaining the sigil, and hostile towards allowing other people to study it. Aegis at least knew that it was half divine and half arcane; and that Xzar had tapped directly into Aegis' own heritage when making it.

Now the ranger girl didn't have the best head for magic in the world; and when confronted with complex tactics or puzzle-solving she was usually happy to defer to Imoen, Xan, Edwin, or anyone else who took the initiative. But she wise enough to know Xzar had performed some very complex and interesting spellcrafting when he'd transcribed the Seal on her skin. She felt an almost instinctive appreciation for the swirling shapes, like the tingling she'd felt in her fingers when she wanted to heal or... or hurt something. She hadn't had the latter sensations very often lately, thank the gods.

When she truly needed protection, she felt the seal more keenly. Her intuition suggested the _Protection _spell was responding to her; and that she was empowering it with the same part of herself that could heal, smell death, and talk to dead Bhaalite souls. No doubt there was a limit to what the _Protection from Evil_ could do, and for how long it could do it; but this gave her some vague perspective on what both she and Xzar were each capable of.

_A Bhaalite cleric. _It reoccurred to Aegis, abruptly, mid-fight, that her missing lover had been an incredible monster once. She was going to have to swallow a hell of a lot of incredibly bloody history, eventually; whether she asked for it all in one go, or uncovered it piece by piece.

Aegis stomped through a fallen skeleton's domed forehead and then looked around quietly in the lull of the battle. The telltale outline of some kind of ghost was ahead, floating about one of the towers. "Everyone take a breather!" she called, letting out a sigh. "Imm! There's another ghost down here!"

"Ooh! Maybe it knows something about the book!" she squealed, darting forward to investigate. Aegis smirked, rolled her eyes, and then blinked when Xan came up beside her.

[You look pensive,] the enchanter noted.

Aegis grimaced and then nodded. [I was thinking about Xzar. About what he's told me concerning his past. It's not pretty.]

He quirked a brow. [Did you expect it to be?]

Aegis chuckled. [I... I actually was thinking about my father. Wondering how he even found me. Why he came to adopt me. If he knew what I was from the beginning. I wonder... I wonder if he ever looked at me and saw a monster...]

[You were a child,] Xan disagreed. [You had no history, and were innocent.]

[Yeah? My father was a Harper, and apparently a very active adventurer. If Kivan ran into the bastard daughter of Lolth, who was destined to grow up spreading chaos and destruction, what do you think his very next course of action might be?]

Xan was quiet for a moment. [I believe you have put the issue into perspective for me,] he realized. [But whatever the answers to your questions might be, he clearly loved you. Even if he saw a monster, he must have also seen the potential for something more.]

[Suppose maybe that explains the mixed company I keep,] she decided thoughtfully. [And how I can be so protective... and at the time make incredibly strange recruitment decisions.]

[Well... At least you know they are strange. I was operating under the impression you somehow felt this was normal; though I suppose I should not complain as we have received great combat effectiveness in exchange for our unnecessarily overblown inter-party drama.]

Aegis smirked and pat the elf's shoulder gently. [I want Kivan to join the team.]

Xan did too, and it showed in his face. [I'm afraid that is one party recruitment decision I cannot get behind. He is... he is unyielding on the issue of Viconia. If you manage to convince him to stay, I fear they will come to blows.]

[Kivan is the ranger who gave me my hatchet when I was five years old. I didn't figure it out until recently.] The enchanter jumped, his eyes widening. Aegis smiled softly. [And without Jaheira on hand, I could honestly benefit from having an older ranger around.]

[... Perhaps... Perhaps then we can think of _something_,] Xan mused. [If Viconia manages to seduce Ajantis, at least she will be less vulnerable.]

[Ah. I thought I was the _only_ one who noticed that...] the ranger grinned.

[Should we warn him?]

[He has a habit of learning his lessons the hard way. Besides, they might even keep each other out of trouble.]

Imoen hopped up to them. "Okay, I feel like I need to write a checklist. First thing's first, the _History of the Darkness_ is actually called the _History of the Sisters of Light and Darkness._ It's not the only manuscript still in existence, but it is a very old version written in elvish. According to the ghost, it was last locked away in a small chapel to Deneir five levels beneath this. Unfortunately, he says the wraiths are milling around down there as thick as fog; and that while they won't come up on their lonesome they will give chase to anyone who goes down there."

Aegis blinked at this deluge of information. "He's a very well-informed ghost."

"No, he's completely airy; I'm just good at getting to answers," Imoen giggled. "Now! I asked him about whether this place had any magical defenses which might be able to deal with the wraiths. He says yes, but to activate them we'll need to find Headmaster Sigils for each School of Magic; which of course means finding the dead Headmasters and looting their (likely undead) remains. Now we probably need to activate the defenses for at least the Divination school if we're dealing with wraiths, and then something really offensive like Evocation or Conjuration. Then after that-"_  
_

"Alright! Alright, stop, I can see why you want to write a checklist," Aegis grimaced. "Explain the situation to Edwin, Xan, and Dynaheir; and then just tell me what our next step is."

"Right-O sis! You can count on me!"

..

* * *

The bridges were in various states of disrepair, and only so many of the party could stand abreast and expect to fight at one time. Kagain, Shar-Teel, Ajantis, and Aegis were in the front; with Minsc just behind them, ready to charge forward if need be. Viconia and Branwen stood back; The former was Rebuking Undead while the latter was throwing light spells at skeletons up on balconies and landings. The skeletons were using an array of tattered old crossbows on the party. Imoen and the wizards were in the rear.

Aegis stepped back a pace as another ghoul lunged at her. Then with a heavy sweep of axe and shield both, Aegis sent it tumbling over the side of the bridge and hissing and shrieking its way down to a very distant splatter. Beside her, Shar-Teel struck forward, only for another ghoul's claws to slip past her knife arm. At a glance of its fingers on her arm she was paralyzed solid. Ajantis saw her just as the ghoul lunged forward, its teeth sinking hard into her extended forearm.

"HELM!" he cried out, stabbing down with his sword towards the hardy monster's skull. When it refused to release her he shoved the edge of his shield between the two of them and then levered his weight in to shove the ghoul away. The sounds of tearing flesh were gruesome, but at least he was able to get the creature off of her. "Shar-Teel has been bitten!" he announced. His voice was one of concern; though no doubt the frozen woman in question considered it an insult to her battle prowess.

The paladin yelped when three ghouls suddenly pressed forward to occupy the space that he had previously occupied, swarming around him and the immobile woman. Minsc dropped his bow and forced his way forward to take his spot in the line as Aegis and Kagain both pushed forward with all of their strength and expertise. "Keep them off of her!" Aegis shouted.

Imoen had initially been concerned that her arrows wouldn't do much against skeletons, but it appeared her bowstaff bestowed its undead-fighting magic sauce to any arrow she fired, including ones that were already enchanted. Her arrows were hitting skeletons with explosive force, popping them open with bright white light. Behind her, Edwin had stepped up on the bridge railing and was trying to aim a fireball accurately into the ghouls ahead of them. Most of the front-line fighters were taller than him.

{Edwin, I have got a brilliant plan I am gonna tell you later!} she called to him.

{Is it going to end up like your brilliant plan to grab that enchanted shield that had fallen in to a chasm by having Aegis dangle you by your feet over top of it?}

{How was I supposed to know there were vampyric wolves down there!? What are vampire wolves doing in a ruins like this, anyway? Plus, I was absolutely fine!}

{Absolutely fine? Before or after I distracted them with a spray of bats and Branwen left us all blind with a huge pillar of light?} He lobbed the fireball, and the waves of flames stopped just inches in front of Aegis, who threw a dirty look back at him. He scowled at her because, after all, he'd succeeded in not hitting anyone.

{Brilliant. Plan. Edwin!}

{Save it. I'm not in the mood to listen to how you'll accidentally blow up the party.}

Imoen pouted. _Someone_ was getting cranky.

* * *

Truth be told, _everyone_ was getting cranky. Branwen was the only one of their two clerics who had known the cavernous areas east of Nashkel often contained ghouls, and it hadn't occurred to her to prepare anything like _Remove Disease_. Viconia had been insufficiently briefed on their pre-existing knowledge of the area. Xan restrained himself from saying anything; planning tactics was more his expertise than it was Branwen's.

"Well," the enchanter sighed, "ghoul fever usually takes a day to fully incubate. So we have time to help her."

"We can rest for lunch and I can trying praying for an alternate spell," Viconia offered.

"Shove it, I'm fine," Shar-Teel growled, glaring daggers at Ajantis. The paladin held up his hands in protest, not wanting to be assaulted by an injured woman he had no intention of harming. "And I _don't_ need any help!" she shouted bitterly.

"-now," Edwin appended. Shar-Teel whirled to glare at him. "You most _definitely_ needed a good rescue about fifteen minutes ago. And you are probably going to need help again before twenty-four hours are out unless you want to start urinating black puss..."

"You bitchy, arrogant little-" Shar-Teel hissed, but Viconia's hand on her arm restrained her.

"Now is not a good time, and he is right. We will mend you by this evening at least," Viconia responded, trying to hold on to her own temper before Shar-Teel killed someone they needed or died in the attempt.

They were only a few steps into the next room in when Xan went rigid, his ears standing up a good inch, his face a mask of horror.

"The walls. Are. _MOVING_!" he shrieked in a strangled voice. Then the walls, which were covered in a red ichor, began sloughing down towards the ground, lobbing sticky, acidic gobs of themselves at the party and swarming to engulf their ankles.

Dynaheir threw an electrical bolt through the room. The blood jellies surged forward with excitement. "They're like Mustard Jellies!" she realized. "Edwin! We need to use fire!"

"_Beg_ a little first," he laughed. "Everyone with non-magical weapons, stand back, you're useless!" He threw his next fireball into the room as they backpedaled, sending many of the smaller jellies to shriveling.

"Thou art a pretentious _dick_-!"

"Get out antidotes!" Xan squealed. "Prepare to neutralize poison!"

"I _know_!" Viconia shouted irritably. "Stop screaming, you pissant excuse for a man! If I need a fairy shrieking in my ear, I'll bottle one!"

"Stupid... undead... fucking..." Shar-Teel muttered and then reeled as an acidic and poisonous blob slammed hard into her face. She pulled the sticky material off, and gazed at her fingers in dismay. Then her eyes rolled up and she crumpled to the ground.

Ajantis whirled about, scooped her off the ground, got her onto his shoulder, and ferried her rapidly out of jelly-spewing range. Viconia followed him, alarmed and confused by the paladin's unhesitating assistance. For a moment she wondered if he might smother Shar-Teel while the rest of the party was distracted, but his first action on laying her down was to apply his limited healing capabilities.

* * *

More reasons why Gorion's telling of your parentage comes out incredibly garbled...


	29. History Lessons

2nd Chapter in Ulcaster! Expecting 2 more after this XD.

Cheshire! Log in so I can reply to your reviews and stalk you XD. Alas! I did not specify which pink maniac XD. Although Imoen has come leaping off of buildings and trees into Aegis' arms before, it HAS been awhile in terms of chapters XD.

Blue: Imoen is totally managing half the party journal, I'm sure. The part that looks like a grocery shopping list with arrows everywhere XD. Or maybe a Systems Engineering Use Case Diagram or UML... Ajantis is totally a good guy XD. Him getting blocked from smiting left and right early on ended up being important! I just find it funny how he's getting along with Viconia when we know how his mentor would advise him about her XD.

Murder-Chan: I wanted to do at least one really cool treasure room scene but I'm not sure I'll have time for it. I always love that scene at the end of National Treasure (the first one) where they are all looking at the treasure room at the end and it is just unbelievably massive and the female protagonist goes up to some scrolls and says they're from the Library at Alexandria. Beautiful moment there! *sniff*

..

* * *

History Lessons

* * *

_When there was finally time to think, Gorion ended up burning the house down. He was careful about it, putting up wards to protect the villas on either side. Still, he needed to destroy it; that awful place which otherwise would remind him eternally that Bhaal was hardly restricted in what forms he could take or what lies he could spin. _

_He watched the villa burn from some distance away. He expected the first people to arrive would be the authorities, but instead he heard soft footsteps and turned around to see a very unwelcome halfling not far behind him. _

_"How... dare you... show your face here?" he asked._

_"You too?" Tallix muttered, grimacing in frustration. "Are you at least going to _tell_ me what I did before attacking me?"_

_Gorion glowered at her, slowly taking note of her injuries. Winthrop had managed to catch her with two or three enchanted arrows, it seemed. "What happened?" he asked darkly._

_"I'm asking you!" Tallix protexted. "The others just attacked me! I'm lucky to have escaped with my life! I thought if I could find ye and Lull, ye might explain the fuck is going on! She sneered. "Though why I thought ye'd do shit to explain when Harus himself were trying to kill me... bah!"_

_Gorion was quiet a very long moment. "That 'medication' you fed Lullorin... was it blood?"_

_Tallix shifted uncertainly. "Aye."_

_"And that didn't concern you? You didn't warn anyone?" he pressed._

_"Look, you're her lover, not me! If anyone were privy to her secrets, I'd figure it'd be you!"_

_"Lullorin was your 'friend,' " he reminded her. "She recruited you to the party."_

_"Damn straight, cause I'm the best! What? Did she... were she... She's not here, with ye." Tallix frowned hesitantly. "The blood were important? Was she... some sort of vampire or demon or summat?"_

_Gorion stared piercingly down at the halfling. "Summat," he responded in a growl._

_"So," the thief muttered, "that's my death sentence. I were only let to help ye cause she vouched for me. Now there ain't nothin' standin' between a Harper n' a Zhent. That right?"_

_The aasimar was quiet for some time. Then he shook his head. "Run, Tallix. Run very, very far away. I never want to see you again."_

_The thief shifted slightly. "What about... yer mission/"_

_"I will find a Harper Dungeoneer. Run, Tallix. Before I change my mind. Before I forget you were my friend and that I cared about you."_

_The halfling backed up a few steps and then nodded. "Take care of yerself, Rion," she told him quietly, and then turned and vanished into the night._

* * *

"What's the matter, Xan?" Viconia teased. "Haven't you ever seen a zombie before?"

"That- that-!" The enchanter protested, "-that was an elf, once! Destroy it!"

Viconia looked to the _Rebuked _zombie in amusement and then glanced back at Xan. "Was it really? All you surfacers look alike to me. Never fear, it is entirely under my control."

"Destroy it!" Xan insisted with renewed fierceness. "One of the fair folk should not be reduced to such!"

Viconia lifted a brow. "But it's okay for Rivvin to be reduced to such?" she asked with an alligator smile, ironically baiting out a racist quip.

"Of course not! The fight is over. You have no further need of it!"

The dark elf lifted a brow, wondering at the ludicrousness of such a question. She needed it for the _next_ battle of course. Yet seeing him so riled up filled her with pleasure. "I think you may be overreacting," she chuckled. "Come here pretty zombie, give your mistress a kiss..."

The zombie shambled forward to do just that, planting a grotesque but harmless kiss on Viconia's face as the enchanter recoiled backwards in horror.

"Viconia!" Ajantis shouted. "Let the dead rest! This vessel has served its purpose!"

She laughed. "I really don't know what you two are so upset about. It is hardly as if this is the first time I have ever puppeted a surface elf into an act of intimacy with me- oops, did I say that out loud? The blonde ones always _did _fetch the highest prices. Well, don't pay any mind to that little slip up; It is also hardly the first time I have ever puppeted an _undead_ elf, either."

Xan gave a strangled sound of indignant rage, he turned around, and stalked off to the side of the group. Viconia watched him go with a smirk of satisfaction, and then turned to tend to their wounded. A moment passed and she felt a spell fall over her and fail against her magic resistance. Confused, she perked up and looked around. Another spell hit her, and she drew out her mace. "Whoever is-!" On the third time, Xan's _Charm Person_ spell took hold. The dark elf stood there for a moment, swaying slightly back and forward. Then she smiled.

"What was I thinking?" she laughed. "Why would I want this _dirty_ zombie following me around right now? Go ahead and hack it to pieces, Ajantis; I don't need it." The paladin blinked and then turned a grimace on to Xan.

"Release her," he growled. "Reserve your magic for the enemy."

Xan scowled incredulously. "Kill the zombie first," he retorted. "That's what you wanted to do, isn't it?"

"It doesn't change anything if she does not choose to do it of her own free will!" Ajantis countered, but he stood and went to dispatch of the zombie.

"Ehm, Elf..." Edwin purred with lewd intent. "What do you want in exchange for-"

"No," Xan cut him off. "Branwen is already going to have harsh words with me just for this. Viconia, dear, why don't you at least thank Ajantis for not killing Shar-Teel? I'm sure he could use the distraction of some pleasant conversation."

Viconia considered the suggestion. When Ajantis came back, wiping his blade free of zombie blood, she came up to him, grasped the collar of his armor, and placed a kiss on his mouth. Ajantis' eyes went wide. Xan stiffened. _Oops_. '_Thank.' Misinterpretation of the suggestion._

Minsc was wincing with the force of the Blood Jelly's poison, clutching shakily at his stomach. Dynaheir did not look particularly well, although Branwen had applied her very last _Slow Poison _on the woman only moments earlier. Shar-Teel was still unconscious. Aegis had been hit by poison early on in the fight and refused to hold still so that the clerics could mend her, but she seemed to have weathered it well. Kagain had remained on his feet, and if he had been poisoned then the force of the acidic toxin had not done much against his dwarven hardiness.

Aegis looked around at her party and then slowly shook her head. She came up to Minsc, who was still grimacing at the sensations of the poison. "Everyone, we need to camp."

"What?" Imoen jumped, nearly losing a chest she'd been carefully peeling red jelly back from an old bookcase. "We can't sleep down here!"

The ranger huffed. "We don't have a choice. We're not going to make it back up to the surface this evening with so many wounded; if any 'problems' wandered in to place behind us we're too tired to handle them right now. And of course it would also be stupid of us to push forward. Hold still Minsc. I think I'm developing a little talent with nature magic. Let me see if I can help with the poison."

This was news to Minsc and Imoen, who were both curious enough to watch with interest. Indeed, it turned out that Aegis' experience with Kivan had been no fluke. A few moments after giving intention to the tingling in her fingers, Minsc was quite cured. He beamed and hugged her emphatically.

"ENCHANTER!" Ajantis bellowed, sword raised, charging across their vision. "Release her! Release her immediately! I cannot believe you compelled her to do such a thing!"

"I'm telling you, I had no intention of her kis-!" Xan was protesting. Branwen moved to rise, but Kagain gave her a hearty pat on the shoulder to let her know he had this one.

"Imma kick that moron's ass," the dwarf sighed sighed, wading over to threaten some kneecaps unless the Amnite quieted down. Kagain might not have suffered much from the poison, but he was developing one heck of a headache.

Dynaheir shook her head in amusement. "I have an idea for how we might be able to create a safe area for the evening" she explained to Aegis, pulling her pack from her shoulders and rummaging in it. After a few moments she pulled out a bag of chalk and a number of thick white candles. "I had considered that something of this nature might happen. I have packed two evening's worth of white candles for purification magic. With these as spell components, and three wizards and two clerics; I am sure we can sanctify a space for rest this evening. In fact, I am sure we can make ourselves veritably _invisible_ to the undead. The question is: where should we do so?"

"Not on a bridge, that's for sure," Aegis responded. "And not in the dead jelly room either. Let's backtrack to that old dining hall we saw a half hour ago. We can throw your circle down right around one of the pillars. It's not a claustrophobic space, but it should be defensible while you are setting everything up..."

"Oh gods," Imoen whimpered, as the nature magic was no longer distracting her and it was becoming more and more obvious that they would be sleeping in an undead-invested ruins that evening. "Edwin, the ghouls are going to eat my ankles while I'm sleeping, aren't they?"

The conjurer shook his head as he carefully burnt gobs of red aside, and then finally eased the book case opened. It was filled with well-preserved bellum-bound books filled with leaves of delicate papyrus. "What the hells is it with you and ankles, Monkey? Ah! Lovely. It looks like the acidity of the slimes prevented any mold from eating these documents."

Imoen waggled her arms in the air "Didn't you see the jellies rushing to grab them out from under us!? We're all going to die! We're doomed! Dooooommmed! Ooh, that book looks cool! Wait, where is Xan? Doom, Xan!"

"Over here," Xan sighed, coming up beside her and looked as if he felt slightly guilty about something totally unrelated to his failure to say 'doomed' at the necessary moment. "Our resident suicide monger, Ajantis, is currently goading our delightfully odorous dwarf companion into a fight. Most likely without realizing it."

"Some days," Aegis sighed. "Some days..." She pat Minsc's shoulder so he'd release her. "I'll go rescue the paladin."

* * *

"Alright, everyone, behave! And don't go anywhere alone."

"I have to pee!" Imoen complained.

"So does the entire party," Viconia muttered, shooting the occasional unforgiving glare at Xan. "We'll take shifts, then. Women first."

"Boys in ten minutes," Aegis agreed.

"Ah, good, I've been workin' on this log for _hours_," Kagain sighed. "Was thinking just ta-"

"Flee!" Aegis ordered the rest of her companions, hurrying over to where Ajantis was settling Shar-Teel down alongside where their spellcasters were arguing over exactly what kind of protective circle to draw. Kagain broke out laughing. "Flee for your lives! Hey, Ajantis. How's Shar-Teel doing?"

"She's recovering. She still hasn't reached consciousness," the paladin explained. "I am realizing she is not particularly _hardy_ for one so strong."

"She should never challenge Aegis to arm-wrestling," Minsc grinned. "Fiesty One! You must use the bathroom now and not do spellwork! You will regret it later!"

Aegis rubbed her brow. _Wizards_.

Xan shuddered. "Is it very cold down here... or am I still cursed?"

"Likely both," Aegis muttered. "Everyone remember we don't have a fire tonight. Bundle up in a second pair of clothes if you have any, or borrow from someone who does."

"Edwin!" Imoen chimed. "I've got some fresh clothes for you!"

The conjurer blinked. "What? Again? Why?"

"Because I'm your mum, Edwin," the thief told him matter-of-factly. Edwin got a funny look on his face. Aegis broke out laughing.

"No, I am done wearing peasant textiles," the Red Wizard told the Pink One dismissively.

"That's why I bought silk!" Imoen chimed. "They're a black shirt and trousers with gold trim! I ransacked the stores last night, thinking 'evil wizard, evil wizard, evil wizard; 'twas the only garment which worked!"

Edwin hesitated. Then he sighed and came over to have a look.

Xan glanced at Aegis, who was still laughing. Branwen tossed him his extra clothing. [What's so funny?] he asked the ranger.

Aegis smiled sadly. [Once upon a time, an old monk secured a brand new book he was excessively eager to translate. He worked day and night; not sleeping more than an hour in twenty four, barely touching his food, and locking the door to his study when people insisted on bothering him.]

[I see. And what happened to this monk?]

[About three days later, his eighteen year old daughter kicked in the door to his study, manhandled him out of his chair, and ended up carrying him like a sack of potatoes out of the study. In his defense, he did try a number of spells to stop her; but sleep-deprivation tends to wreck havoc on a wizard's ability to remember draconic. He had a nice, uninterrupted, sixteen hours of sleep that night; and breakfast in bed on the morrow. In his daughter's defense, it was his birthday. She made scrambled eggs in the shape of a heart and everything.]

Xan peered up at her for a moment, blinking slowly and hugging his clothing to his chest. [One day I hope my children love me half so much as that.]

[Love you enough to bodily carry you out of your own study? Hmm.] She glanced at Branwen. [Somehow, I don't foresee you having a problem in that arena. In the event that you end up choosing to have any children, that is.]

Xan followed her gaze and then turned scarlet.

[I should warn you there was an awful lot of yelling involved and me shouting 'This is for your own good!' while he threatened my allowance, grounding me, selling my cats, and all sorts of other nefarious punishments... You never _can_ tell your older relatives how to behave and expect them to pull punches on the reprisal... Fortunately, I was _totally right_ and he broke down laughing halfway across the hallway.]

Viconia grimaced at the sight of both Branwen and Imoen carrying clothing on behalf a male. "Are you both laundry maids now?" Aegis rolled her eyes. Viconia was annoyed. "Imoen, Edwin is male. _He_ should be dressing _you_.

Edwin laughed where he was admiring the new and neatly cut silk garment with its high color and its neat double gold trim down the front. The fasteners were concealed beneath fabric. "Nightflower, I would only be too happy to _un_dress _you_. We could keep the chill back in other ways!"

The drow rolled her eyes. "How unappealing must you be that you cannot even get your roommate to sleep with you?"

Edwin balked. "What? She is my _student_."

"And? So you've a position of power over her; what better excuse do you need?"

Edwin and Imoen looked at each other, similarly dismayed. Ironically, it seemed both Candlekeep and the Red Wizard Academy had some ethical principle in common: if you were going to to sleep with your student you ought to at least _hide_ it or something.

Edwin looked back at Viconia and shrugged off that drow found such behavior good form. "You are assuming a lot in thinking I've even tried. I am _hardly_ that desperate.

Imoen stuck out her tongue and then laughed. "Ha! Whatever. Viccy, you forget, I've watched what kind of women he picks!" The Red Wizard lifted a brow at her.

"Oh?" the drow asked, amused. "Have you now? And what are his weaknesses?"

"He likes mature women-which means for humans at least twenty-five though he'll take ladies older than him, women who are as thin as a rail, no gross imperfections- scars are okay, no real butt, small to medium breasts, long legs, reasonably pretty, they must be experienced and not shy, and be wearing bare minimum makeup- he draws the line at dark eye shadow, mascara and modest blush; he likes very luxurious alto voices, and he seems to have a terrible, terrible weakness for very nice hair."

Edwin made a baffled face, staring at Imoen incredulously.

"Well!" Viconia laughed, "This explains why _you_ are right out." The drow seemed to accept this entire description as a form of praise, and even appeared to be preening slightly. "At least he has good taste."

The Red Wizard lifted a brow. When Viconia departed, he leaned near to Imoen. {What did you just _do_?}

{I told you we needed to work on your pick-up lines!} the thief giggled.

{She just complemented me. After we were discussing prostitutes. Why?}

{Why? You know what, a thousand gold says I can get her to sleep with you by the end of the week. No promises that she'll be nice about _it_, or the morning after, though!}

Edwin scowled. {Why the hell would _you_ be able to get _her_ to sleep with _me_?}

{Excuse me? Which of us pays for sex, and which of us entices it?} She lifted a brow at him. {That's right. Don't question the _master_.}

{_Mas-_! I don't _have_ to p-! You've only been sleeping with people for-! I _loathe_ you, pink whore. Loathe!} He considered. {If she decides to sleep with me owed to your actions, I will buy you a pony.}

Imoen thought about this. {Will it be a rainbow pony?}

{I shall have it dyed,} he told her solemnly.

{Hmm...} She tapped her fingers together in mimicry of him. {Challenge... _Accepted_.}

* * *

"Edwin! Edwin, I can't sleep!" the pink girl pleaded, shaking his shoulder.

"Ungh. What?" He blinked sleepily, rubbing his face and wincing at the hardness of his palette. At least the extra layer of clothing was doing wonders for temperature. "Until a moment ago, you were the only one."

"I can't sleep! Ghouls are going to eat us!"

"By the gods, child, the circle is fine. The white candles remain lit. The undead can neither see nor hear us. Go back to bed."

"What if a mage ghost finds us, what if everyone but me gets dragged out of the circle by their ankles and I'm alone, what if I get dragged out by my ankles, what if I or you or everyone just dissappears and reappears when I close my eyes and then I'm alone in the dark, what if there's a wind and the candles go out, what if we all die in our sleep, or I wake up and you're all zombies, or-" She kept going.

Edwin had gone through the stages of waking up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, tuning in to what she was saying, disbelief, irritation, anger, resignation, and now at last amusement. He watched her in bafflement as she described equally more horrifying and improbable possibilities, and then at last he pulled himself to a sitting position and leaned back against the pillar.

Imoen frowned and went silent for a moment. Then she scooted over to join him. He pulled his pack up beside him and then drew out some of the delicate books the party had recovered. Peeling apart the brittle papyrus with painstaking slowness, he splayed open the pages for their examination. {How about you put that hyperactive mind of yours to more productive work?} he suggested.

She hesitated, looking around at the darkness of the chamber beyond. {Can I hide under your cloak?} she asked him.

Edwin sighed. {Yes, Monkey. Once. If you can avoid making a habit of asking.}

This seemed satisfactory to her, because she shuffled up to his side and pulled almost the whole of his cloak about her. She held the Blacksun (which really had to be renamed) across her shoulder, and each of them summoned a small light to see by. Having an activity to occupy her mind must have helped, because her heart-rate settled against his shoulder, and by the end of thirty minutes she seemed calm.

{What is Thay like?} she asked him abruptly. The question interested him, though he tried not to let it show.

{Thay is a land of power and resources, where cunning and ability make men and women great. The undeserving and unintelligent are kept at the service of their betters. Red Wizards and, to a lesser extent, military leaders hold all forms of relevant power; including power in the legal, diplomatic, and economic spheres. The more 'monstrous' races are better tolerated for their strength and fierceness, and creatures like gnolls, hobgoblins, or ogres often hold live quite comfortably as guards, bouncers, or military personnel.}

{Isn't it a slave state?}

{As I said. The undeserving and unintelligent are kept at the service of their betters.}

{But who are the slaves, and who are the slave owners? You've mentioned an ethnicity called the 'Mulan'?}

{Mulan and Mulan descendants make up privileged classes of Thay, though many have sunk to the level of commoners. Our system does not reward lack of ambition; nor lack of talent. Still, Mulan are of noble blood, and that is never to be forgotten. Thayvian commoners are largely derived from Rashami stock, though it is an insult to call them 'Rashemi.' They are simply 'Thayvian.' Slaves are diverse; though there is a Rashemi majority. We collect slaves from all over the Realms as it suits us.}

{That sounds horrible,} Imoen protested.

Edwin chuckled. {Really? There are many people in the world who contribute nothing to the whole; who are barely capable of taking care of themselves. Why should these people _not_ be bound to a will stronger their own? Why should they not contribute by supporting their elites? In exchange for obedience, they are provided for by their owners. Slaves are expensive possessions, after all.}

Imoen eyed him and lifted a brow. He chuckled.

{Well. I suppose I am not being entirely truthful. We took prisoners in war for a time; men and women who were more useful to us alive than dead. But hands are a valuable commodity, and we were strong enough to keep bringing in more. In time, a luxury trade grew atop the utilitarian one. Exotic slaves are brought in like exotic game; like Wyvren eggs or young Blink Dogs. With the right coin and connections, anything is possible in Thay. There is no limit to what one can accomplish. We are one of the world's greatest and best-supplied magical bastions, and we've no lack for mundane luxuries.}

She rolled her eyes: {It sounds like a horrible place. For everyone! Everyone who isn't at the very tip top, that is!}

{Then one should endeavor to be in that top group, mm? Which I am, even if you are not.} He rolled his eyes at her naivety.

Imoen looked thoughtfully out at nothing. {Would I be very different if I had been born Mulan, I wonder?}

{And born in Thay? You would have already conquered half the known world and would have a harem of pleasure slaves at your back and call,} he assured her.

{Okay, tell me about something that _isn't_ horrible. What's the food like?}

{The meat, noodles, rice, and vegetables are served with a great deal of spice. The fruit is lush citrus. We are famous for our cherries, actually. Any cherry you've ever eaten, if it was sweet rather than sour, it originated in Thay; and it was harvested by slaves.}

{And now you've ruined cherries for me...} she sighed. {What is the land like?}

{A series of plateaus called the First and Second Escarpment, and the surrounding land; very difficult to invade, and warded against scrying magic to make spying impossible. Our country circles the Thaymount, a series of active volcanoes. The highest plateau is where Red Wizards and affluent nobles build summer homes to escape from the heat. Thay is _hot_.}

{Explains why you don't have warmer clothing.}

{At one point much of the land was desert, scrub, or grass; but through magic we have controlled the weather to bring rains where we require them. We produce a great deal of citrus, as I mentioned, and also textiles; and we maintain self-sustaining forests. There are a few major ports for trade. The city of Bezantur in the tharch- that means 'province'- of Priador is our largest port. It is a city of trade which boasts the largest constant population in Thay, and has the largest temple to Umberlee in the world. It is often called the city of temples because a temple to almost every god in Faerun can be found there. The exception is Mystra.}

{No temple to Mystra?! Why?}

{The Red Wizards monopolize magical education in Thay, for very good reasons. The country is a theocracy, ruled by a council of powerful mages called zukirs; one for each school of magic. Wizards are a nobility above nobility in Thay; it is understandable that their education should have some level of standardization to it. For example: it likely should contain an element of _patriotism_. Mystra may be the mother of magic, but her agents are subversive towards Thayvian authority, and are typically unwelcome on the plateau.}

{Unwelcome? So who _can_ visit? Anyone? Merchants? Adventurers? Bards? No one?}

{Plenty of people do 'visit.' To enter Thay, one must have good reason and obtain travel papers at the border, which stipulate what areas one may visit and what activities one may partake in. Foreigners are handled with due suspicion. Merchants still come and go. Occasionally an adventuring band enters at the behest of a tharchion- the leader of a tharch- though often they owe the tharchion a steep cut of their finds.}

{Who would you know if you didn't have these identification papers? Couldn't you just glamour yourself to look Rashemi or whatever?}

{Almost all Thayvians have papers. Anyone who is not nobility or wearing a slave collar must travel at all times with identification papers; and nobles must be able to produce theirs within twenty-four hours of a request for them. A Red Wizard is recognizable by the robes; no one else may wear red. Of course, as with any system, we have our share of corruption. Forgeries exist. But it is much harder, and it helps greatly reduce spies}

Imoen was a little staggered by how... un-free Thay sounded. She could only imagine how living there actually _felt_. She imagined it was soul-crushing unless you were a Red Wizard or at least nobility. {Edwin, you have a last name. You're nobility, right?}

{I am,} he said with a little pride. {My father is tharchion of Surthay, in the north. Trade would be better, as we sit on lake Mulsantir and have access to The Golden Way, which links Faerun with Kara-Tur and which we could infuse with Thayvian goods. However, across the lake is Rashamen, which restricts our motions for now. We have a smaller port, and are responsible for trade heading along the treacherous River Thay, which can quickly ferry goods up and down from the Second Escarpment.}

{I assume this river is worked by slaves?}

He smirked. {No. Zombies. Someone in High Thay, who may or may not be a lich, became distressed with the fees the river's porters were charging. Homicidally so.}

{Of course.} She made a face. {So. Do you _miss_ Thay?}

{It is my homeland,} he responded with a bit of pride. {Also the food out here is terrible.}

{So you'll go back?} she asked.

He raised a brow. {Of course.}

{When?}

{When my business here is concluded,} he answered neatly, waiting to see if he could slip in a hook to this conversation.

{When... Dyn is dead?} She made a distressed expression.

He smiled to himself but then, upon glancing at her, he suggested the remarkably considerate: {Perhaps she might walk herself off a cliff and spare me the trouble.} Imoen got the sense that this was the kindest Edwin could manage to be on the subject. She sighed.

{Can't you just kill her and report the deed done and then I can pay an outrageously large sum to revive her?}

Edwin pretended to take the query into consideration as he assembled his icebreaker on the topic he wished to breach. {Let us say by some miraculous chain of events, Dynaheir and I both survive this party.} He wet his lips. {I will still return to Thay eventually.}

The answer didn't seem to make her happy, and Edwin had to suppress a victorious and predatory smile. He succeeded. {Have you considered coming with me?} he asked as gently as he knew how.

She jumped and looked at him in surprise. {What!?} she exclaimed.

{I _did_ mention that I considered tutoring you to be a _long_ term investment,} he noted with slight irritation. _I offered to apprentice you. It will take years._

{I'm not leaving my sister alone with some giant evil knight chasing after her!} Imoen protested.

{Granted. I assumed as such. What about afterward?} he pressed. {(It is as if she thinks I did not _notice_ her loyalty to Aegis.)}

Imoen thought about it. {I dunno. Would I 'disappear?' It sounds like a horrible place to visit.}

_What? No! Silly child. _He shook his head rapidly, realizing he should have taken some time to describe how things were different for a man of his stature. {You would be safe as my guest. A Red Wizard is an authority in Thay. Most, if not all, common restrictions are repealed for our guests. The plateau would be pleasant for you.}

She eyed him for a moment, and then asked astutely: {Would I be safe _from_ you?} Edwin was surprised by the question. {Like... when I wanted to leave again?}}

{Yes, yes,} he muttered irritably. {Of course.}

{That was an incredibly unconvincing answer,} Imoen giggled. {Do you want to share your evil plot with the team, Edwin?}

He scowled at her. _If I planned to kidnap you child, I wouldn't need to bait you first._ Then she shook his head and gestured with a hand palm-up. {I am merely suggesting that perhaps you should _migrate_ to continue your apprenticeship.} He was sure she must have understood what he was asking her. {Once your sister is safe, of course.}

She frowned at him as if he had somehow confused her.

_Are you being deliberately obtuse, or have I really caught you by surprise? _He realized he had to repeat the offer clearly and asked: {Will you accompany me to Thay, Imoen?}

The expression on her face was a strange one. She considered the question for a very long time before shaking her head. {No,} she told him at last.

He was surprised by the bluntness of the answer. It left a strange numb sensation hanging in the air. {No?} he wondered aloud. {'No.'} He considered the response, and then tilted his head to the side. {Why?} _I am your teacher. Does that really mean so little to you? _

Imoen blew out a rush of air and then shook her head. {I lived my whole life in a bird cage. I don't want to go live in another.}

_A cage? Thay is not a-! _But Edwin fell quiet, staring at her. He found himself unable to muster the patriotism to defend his homeland when faced with the ridiculous way she was using her staff to protect her ankles. Thay was a place of nobility and order; it was in many ways the _perfect_ ideal for a country. The Monkey was, by contrast, an incredibly imperfect child.

He entertained an altered version of her for a moment; her exuberance trained into ambition and her humor twisted into something darker and more palatable. Red, not pink. Ruthless and impish; spicy instead of cute. Maybe with time and resources he could draw out the side of her. Or could _have_. He was not working with a blank slate, and Ulraunt had clearly damaged her along the neat seams Edwin would have wanted to fold. Not to mention that Imoen was going on twenty, and much more willful than docile.

There were ways to break a will, of course.

He placed these thoughts to simmer and shook his head. Then he gestured to draw her attention to the book they had been studying.

{Do you _have_ to go back?} she asked, tugging up one of her blankets to cover her knees with because the air really was chill. He waved aside the question.

{Spellwork now,} he told her. {Tell me: What is this sequence?} He made her study until her eyes were drooping. After a time she began to nod off, twitching awake at every little sound and rush of wind. He eased the study materials aside, murmuring the words to a _Resist Fear_ spell. Within moments she slumped entirely against his side. Good. He needed some quiet time to reorganize thoughts and shuffle plans.

Edwin looked up, watching as something dark and hunched with blades and bones jutting out from its back walked by, breathing white mist out from its mouth. He raised a brow, looked to each of the candles. Then he sighed, stole half of _Kwefai_'s blanket and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

I am not sure what is more horrifying: that Imoen gets the pony, or that this story might continue on bereft of rainbow ponies.


	30. On the Subject of Torture

A couple people are totally going to let you down this chapter :) Alas, but they are flawed!

..

* * *

The Subject of Torture

* * *

_The first time Gorion realized he was talking to a redeemable child, he was struck by the horrible sensation that he'd almost failed to notice. He'd been holding the enchanted dagger at ready, and he had been moments from using it when the little one abruptly asked him whether he was half dove. _

_A wave of sensation had passed over him as he remembered the feathers in his hair. Then quite abruptly he noticed the lack of Abyssal taint staring up at him. His lips parted, and for a moment he was horrified. Then he knelt, sheathing the blade and gently taking the girl's face in his hands, studying her eyes. She was from Moonsea there was no mistaking it; but her lovely green eyes were round and innocent._

_"Tell me your name again, little one," he whispered._

_"Maevi," the girl mumbled._

_"Maevi," he murmured. "A beautiful name. Do you know your mother's name, Maevi?"_

_The little child hesitated, putting a finger thoughtfully in her mouth. Her face was still red with some tears. Then she shook her head. He had a feeling she'd failed to understand the question._

_"Do you know where mama lives?" Gorion coaxed tenderly._

_Maevi squirmed from foot to foot, trying to interpret the query. Then she turned around and pointed at a slumped priestess' body. Gorion's heart fell._

_"She was mama?" he asked weakly._

_"The little girl hesitated and then nodded. "Mama's name 'Calae,'" she said. _

_He had more Harpers and servants of Lathander to assist him now, but he carried that child straight to Haftyril and put the little one into the elf warrior's arms. "This one is salvageable. Don't let a soul touch her. I am going to bring her straight to Waterdeep when this is done."_

_The elf blinked and nodded. "Of course. Hello! Aren't you a cutey?" He bounced the child, who clung to him in surprise._

_Gorion sighed and returned to the others. He studied each of them carefully, but he did not find another like her. Finding her was like tearing open a wound of the soul. Afterwards, each negative verdict ached; but each also numbed, until he felt akin to ice once more by the end._

* * *

_The bar was almost deserted when Winthrop settled onto the stool behind him and ordered a shot. Gorion glanced over at him but did not say anything. _

_"That's fifteen raids in eight months," the vampire hunter noted. _

_"I don't come here and drink to think about raids," the wizard answered testily._

_Winthrop eyed him a moment. Then he settled in further to the bar, resting his forearms and thinking for a few moments of silence. "I think you need to stop."_

_"Drinking?"_

_"This line of business."_

_Gorion scoffed. "And what about you?"_

_Winthrop shook his head. "You're fading fast, wizard." That got the magus's attention. "You're a ghost of yourself. You keep at this much longer, there won't be much left." _

_"I will endure till we are done," the wizard disagreed._

_"Gorion, that's just it," Winthrop tried to explain. "You aren't enduring. 'Enduring' would suggest ya ain't losing part of yourself in the process. You aren't 'enduring.' You're sacrificing yourself, piece by piece. To do something you barely even believe in. Like if you can just stick to it, that will prove something; prove that it was necessary, maybe."_

_"Enough!" Gorion shouted, standing, ice crackling across the bar. Winthrop blinked in surprise, tilting back a bit to look up at the wizard. The magus's jaw was clenched and his eyes and cheeks were hollowed and darkened. "Enough. There's nothing to be said. I am not leaving. You said so yourself: I am responsible for making decisions even when things are difficult."_

_"Yeah... but... but Rion... You can't take everything on to yourself. You can't blame yerself for-"_

_"I don't want to hear it," Gorion retorted. "Let me drink in peace."_

_Winthrop was silent a moment. Then he sighed. "Jaheira's in Sembia."_

* * *

_"Rion...? By the storm over your head I scarcely recognized you!" Jaheira hissed, coming up beside her friend. She was surprised when he shied back from her friendly touch. "Gorion?"_

_"It... it has been a long few years," the aasimar confessed. _

_"You look as if you have seen a ghost," Jaheira scolded. "What has Khelben been putting you up to?"_

_Gorion scowled and gave her a dark look. "Nothing. You cannot blame Khelben or anyone else for all the things you dislike seeing in the world; much less for peoples' attitudes. I am tired, Jaheira. Now do you have something to say to me, or can I return to my studies?"_

_Withrop glared at him in astonishment. Jaheira recoiled in surprise and then stared at him, confused. Her voice dropped from its maternal and commandeering tone into something confused and slightly vulnerable. The sight of her looking cowed stirred a part of him unconnected to Bhaalspawn and raids, and he grimaced._

_"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I have witnessed a lot of bitter betrayals, gruesome cultists, and sad casualties recently. It... it has put me in a sour temper."_

_"A sour temper," Jaheira repeated, shaking her head. "You speak as a heartbroken man," she realized. "I wanted to tell you that Khalid and I are getting married. We wanted to invite you to the wedding."_

_His spirit soared for a moment. Then butterflies twisted in his stomach. He remembered the burnt villa, the dead newborn, and the horrible Slayer Child that still awaited his discovery. He felt himself smile joyfully; then grimace. At last he shuddered violently and put a hand to his face. Jaheira came back up to him in concern, touching his shoulder._

_"Gorion... what has happened?"_

_"I..." he hesitated. "I loved a woman," he told her. "She is dead now. Died in childbirth."_

_"Oh Gorion, I didn't know... I... what was her name?"_

_The aasimar thought about the question for a moment. Then he answered: "Calae."_

* * *

_Archmagus Blackstaff,  
_

_Our mutual friend has seen better days. His face grows darker every hour. I saw a crack of the old spirit when we found Maevi. For a moment he was a man again. But by the end of the day he'd closed up again. He can't handle much more, but he refuses to give up._

_He seems to be driven towards a goal, almost as if he knows something we don't. I am starting to realize that he may not have been completely honest with any of us in explaining what happened to himself and to Lullorin. I have watched him evade telling the whole story many times before, but today I watched him lie boldface to Jaheira, without betraying the slightest indication that he was telling a mistruth. I am wondering if he is telling everyone what he thinks they will best understand, or ask the fewest questions about._

_So it has only just occurred to me that even the version of the tale he has told me and the version he has told you may not match._

_If you intend to do something on his behalf, you may be running out of time._

_- Griswold Winthrop_

* * *

As Imoen, Dynaheir, and Xan argued over their Ulcaster Ruins and _The History of the Darkness _mission objectives, the rest of the team took their time to perfect their undead fighting strategies. Edwin began using his familiar for scouting purposes, and they began planning each fresh room and corridor as carefully as they were able. Much of Ulcaster seemed abandoned at first glance, but by now the party knew better.

Strolling through an open corridor inevitably led them to a single ghoul, a squeaky doorway, or even a small alarm spell. Without scouting and sound tactical preparedness, a single loud noise could flood 'abandoned' chambers with excited undead. Needless to say, they kept their voices low when walking or between fights.

"The Seal _should_ be around here somewhere," Imoen explained as Aegis looked up and down the small tower they were now exploring.

"There's about five floors worth mentioning," the ranger noted. "Let's briefly split up. Signal the others if you find trouble.

"I'm partnering with Ajantis!" Imoen claimed the paladin. "I have to protect him from Shar-Teel's death vision!"

Edwin glanced to the side and then blinked when Viconia came up beside him. "Let's take the top floor," she suggested to him. The Red Wizard lifted a brow, wondering what nefarious intentions Viconia now possessed. As there was no obvious threat, he shrugged and nodded. "After you," he gestured for her to lead the way.

Had Imoen somehow done this? Hmm.

* * *

"Something you wanted to be _alone_ for, Black Onyx?"

"I confess curiosity about the thief," Viconia admitted once they were apart from the others. "Why room with her if not for some purpose?"

"And here I was hoping you'd want to talk about _us_. Silly me."

"There is no _us_. You are a pig, and you bore me. Now answer my questions, male."

The conjurer smirked. "I should feel slightly offended; but then I remember you are ill informed on my virtues," he replied. "Though if you've gotten me alone just to ask if I extort perks from my apprentice than I shall be bored with _you_."

"You are a simple male, and you have two modes: sex and death. When you are not planning someone's doom, you are breathing on, groping, and soliciting them. So the, ahem, _adorable_ way we found you this morning does beg the question of why you are so close to your 'Monkey'? This clearly goes beyond keeping a foothold in the party."

"Observation is not your strong suite, I see," the Thayvian sighed.

"Ha. Don't be offended, wizard. I do not think you've gone soft! Quite the contrary: Since I assume you are incapable of thinking of anyone other than yourself, I am wondering what motive lies behind your coddling of her. "

Edwin chuckled. "Oh really? Mm. You and every other wizard in this party. Let us just say that the little thief has significant arcane value, and I am keeping a quiet monopoly on her until I figure out what to do with her."

The drow laughed in disbelief. "A monopoly? Please. You don't even exercise any _easy_ power over her. What control do you have?"

"I see your grasp of the less ham-fisted forms of manipulation is shoddy at best." Viconia lifted a brow. "(Yes, yes, I am starting to get the sense that nobility and slavery in the Underdark still has a flick of faerie dramatics to them, hmm) Tell me, Viconia: Is every budding traitor and strutting dominatrix among the Drow so _loud _about their place in the social structure? Every gesture either a bout of obsequious simpering or a vainglorious demonstration of power?"

"Watch it, Thayvian," she purred, snatching the fabric at the shoulder of his robes and leaning close to him with a toothy sneer. "Or you will find out just how _unpleasant _a riled drow mistress can be when she chooses."

"Hush dear, do not take offense," he pat her hand reassuringly. "Seeing as you are the only other person here with a decent temperament and a reasonable head on your shoulders, I shall enlighten you. First, you must understand that I would not offer to 'tutor' her lightly. The average apprentice is retarded and likely to kill themselves without proper adult supervision. But a wizard's power is greatly bolstered by apprentices. Ergo, a gem in the rough is a valuable commodity.

"Granted. A Matron Mother has daughters for a reason."

"Mm. Don't interrupt. It is unnecessary for me to stomp around pissing on everything in order to keep a stranglehold on my prize. There are more subtle means. One is to simply be physically present for any down time in which she may get the itch to study. I then commandeer her attention and teach whatever I wish. So that gives me a halfway decent reason to room with her. The rest is mostly that I hate everyone else worse..."

"Tt," the drow laughed out a disbelieving hiss of air. "Oh really? And why not simply enslave her, bring her back to Thay, and break her to your will?" the drow asked.

Edwin sighed at Viconia's naivety. "Yes. Enslave a woman and then teach her spell breaches, magical protections, and how to conjure explosive fire... Your acumen astounds me, Viconia, how would I ever have stumbled across this solution without you? (It is too bad I still have business here I have to bide my time quietly for. Ha.)"

"Don't be stupid, Thayvian. There are _ways_. Geases, mind games, torture, pleasure... anyone can be broken."

Edwin involuntarily thought of several things simultaneously, and the mixed images crested up in a sudden wave of incredible hatred. He imagined a razor in his hand, flaying white skin open carefully to see what secrets lay beneath. He remembered the stolen red hat, and the story of how Ulraunt had gelded a budding eidetic in childhood. His lips pressed tightly together.

_"Broken_ is useless," he told her with a sneer. "I want a mage, not a trained dog. And no, not everyone can be _bent_. You know less of the art of torture than you claim if you have never encountered a ruined slave, or a prisoner whom even the gods cannot pry obedience from. Like with any art, results vary; and the medium informs the finished work as much as the artist."

"You really think _that_ waif would give you so much trouble? she laughed.

"I have been poking around her subconscious longer than you have. Give up, Viconia. I am not going to shoot myself in the foot for your amusement. I will act precisely as is best for me. Which means baiting my hooks appropriately for the type of prey I am trying to catch. (One does not use harpoons when trapping goby fish.)"

She tilted her head to the side. "You... you are a _very_ interesting man, Edwin Odesseiron... You are nobility among your own people, are you not? That explains your... _experience_... Surfacers here are so squeamish..."

A squeal of excitement came up through the tower. Their conversation cut short, Viconia and Edwin headed back to the center to peer downward. Aegis was shoving aside a heavy granite statue, and revealed a trap-door beneath it. Imoen was picking the lock, and no sooner had they gained the balcony than she managed to disable all traps and pop the lock. With a heave, she forced open the trap door and summoned up a light spell to peer within.

"It's a store room!" She exclaimed. "There are vases down here, and some bookshelves."

A low gurgle came up from the trap door.

"And a mummy! Guys, come help me kill the mummy! Awe... It's so cute. Look at its bandages, it's so neat it's almost like looking at a work of art! Hey, hey, Aegis, do you think it was an elf? It's so petite! Helloo! D'aww, whose a good mummy? You are! you are! Aegis, can I have it? I wonder if it eats. Do you think it would still be a vegetarian?"

"You might want to get down there, rivvil," Viconia intoned with amusement. "It looks like your pet wants a pet."

He sighed "(What else is new?)"

..

* * *

Once they had obliterated the mummy, the party slowly lowered themselves down to find a substantially sized and magically concealed storeroom hidden in magically distorted space between two floors. Halls of shelves branched off, winding maze-like in numerous directions. After quick review of some of the many vases, Imoen concluded that they were filled with common spell components.

"This is a supply room for the school," Edwin realized. "It would have been heavily utilized. I suppose it must be hidden to keep intrepid young students out. That means the trap door was probably left over from its construction... and I am guessing most teachers had a ward stone or teleportation spell to take them here." He realized that now was a perfect opportunity to put some spell components together for Imoen, and he glanced around for spell component pouches.

"Xan!" Dynaheir called, perusing a mahogany cabinet with sliding doors inset with green glass windows. "Look at these scrolls! The paper is still pliant," she praised, touching some of the regularly and neatly bound rolls. "They must have been reference material for large classes..."

"No doubt as a mage school's store room, this area is warded against decay," Xan realized, coming up beside her.

"Its pretty big down here," Imoen murmured. "We should see what else we can find. There might be rarer components or even magical items down here."

"In that case, let's spread out," Aegis agreed and then yelped and grabbed Imoen's arm when the younger girl went to frisk the mummy for the Headmaster's Seal. "Don't! What are you doing? Don't touch the mummy! No one touch the mummy!"

"What? But what if it has the Seal?" Imoen protested.

"Pay attention. I am the woman dating a necromancer, pay attention!" Aegis demanded. "Mummies carry a disease called 'Mummy Rot' which is highly contagious, almost impossible to cure, drains vitality and will power, and causes the one's remains to shrivel up into a pile of dust!"

Imoen gasped. "Like _disintegrate?!"_

"What? I don't know. I suppose? Anyway, _I_ will frisk the mummy. With my gloves on. Xan, do not touch me or the mummy for at least fifteen minutes."

The elf got a far-off look as he contemplated the entire party dying to mummy rot. He shuddered and nodded. Viconia grimaced. "Poor Xan this, poor Xan that. Weak, pitiful male with no spine and a constitution constitution as flimsy as rice paper..."

* * *

Dynaheir had perhaps overextended herself, but the storehouse seemed clear of problems. And in her defense, she had found a case of scrolls that looked to be reference copies and which surely would contain the largest variety of spells. She had just managed to open the book case and was unraveling papyrus when she heard a hiss from behind her. Claws struck into her backside, and then suddenly she was frozen.

Her ghoulish assailant squealed in delight, and her ears were roaring with her pulse; her brain clouded with the horrible realization that she was going to be eaten. Fingertips dug into her clothing, her skin, and yet suddenly pulled away. It didn't leave the area entirely, shuffling around behind her and grumbling hungrilly to itself.

Many yards away, outside of earshot, Viconia lifted a brow. She turned her head and hissed softly. Not far away, Edwin looked up from where he was looking through spell components. Viconia jerked her chin, indicating he should come and have a look. The conjurer lifted a brow but then settled down the vase he'd been perusing and walked over to Viconia's side. When he saw Dynaheir reading from a bookcase he was confused only for the barest instant. Then he saw she wasn't moving, and that a ghoul was hovering curiously behind her. He sucked in a quick breath.

Viconia leaned close to him. "What would you do for me if I were to walk away right now and let the ghoul regain control?"

Edwin looked slowly down at Viconia, intrigued. Dynaheir was her 'friend' last that he'd checked. "Is this a rhetorical question?" he asked her quietly, because he had a feeling it was _not_. At worst, she was playing games with him. At best...

"Would you help me with Xan and Kivan?" she asked in his ear. "It must be both. I assume you can use your pet rivvin as an excuse to stay..."

"How discrete do you intend to be?" he asked, excited.

"I intend to remain with the party," she assured him. "If the ghoul tears her apart, no one will ever trace it to you. Likewise, a little bit of mummy rot and an herb in his soup ought to take Xan down in two quick strokes. Kivan's tendency to disappear makes him easy to deal with. _Invisibility_, _Silence_, and a little _Divine Power,_ and I will be able to snap his neck while he takes watch. I can do nearly all of it myself; but I need a contingency on hand."

"How do you intend to enforce my compliance?" he asked, unwilling to accept a geas.

"I will have you swear a vow. You seem to take those _quite_ seriously," she noted. Edwin scowled slightly, considering Dynaheir. Then he grimaced, reaching down into a belt pouch and pulling out one of several vials. He down it, to the surprise of his co-conspirator. "What was that?" she asked. Edwin didn't answer her, waiting for a moment for the affects to take hold.

A moment later, he sneered in dismay and covered his face. "It won't work," he realized with a sinking sensation. All the gods be damned! It was such a perfect, perfect, _perfect_ opportunity!"

"What? Which part?" Viconia asked.

"The ghoul. Imoen knows I have access to a very rare _Command Undead_ spell variant, which is powerful enough to control a ghoul."

The drow blinked in surprise. "Such spells exist? How does _she_ know?"

"Because she stole it for me."

Viconia gave a snarl of irritation. "You disappoint me, Thayvian, if _that_ is what stops you. Where is your bloodlust? Your hate? I offer to sacrifice my ally and you are unwilling to sacrifice yours? You turn spineless on me? Even if the pink child remembers your spell, she will have no proof you did this, and she will not try to expose you without better evidence. Intimidate the girl, or dispose of her before she figures it out!"

Edwin's gaze flicked to the drow.

"You can find another bed warmer. _I_ might even be persuaded to add that to the bargain, if it's what you want," she hissed. "Is her 'arcane value' worth that?Or have you truly grown attached? _I_ will help you dispose of her, if you lack the stomach! The girl is an irritant on the best days-"

"You are making some errors in presumption, Viconia," Edwin told her darkly, because he could easily have subdued Imoen and murdered Dynaheir at the spring days ago _Wolf and the lamb_. "I do not have the time or energy to explain them in full, and you clearly did not pick up on my hints at earlier occasions, so let this suffice: If you harm my apprentice, I will kill you without even giving much thought to it."

Her eyes widened and she couldn't suppress a laugh. "You? A wizard? I am _drow_, spellcaster, and you can barely touch-"

"And I am a conjurer," he responded calmly. "Tell me, Viconia, if I blind-summon a Handmaiden of Lolth, which of us do you think it will take its time in killing whilst the other slips free?"

The smile fled Viconia's face.

"Now, do not take this personally, dear," Edwin suggested. "I do not trust you, Night Flower, because I do not trust anyone. And I never have. My desire to ravish your gorgeous self notwithstanding. I appreciate earthly pleasures, and I am no stranger to yielding to temptations. But I also appreciate the value of paranoia, and I do not expect this arrangement would end in my favor. No. I shall conduct my business with Dynaheir at my leisure. Thank you for the offer."

Her mouth dripped into an ugly scowl. "Coward."

Edwin eyed her lazily, knowing that Viconia swung hot and cold and that she would be significantly less vindictive in the near future. "When you are calmer, I have an idea for how _you_ might get more satisfying vengeance on Xan, anyway."

"You are an incredibly castrated excuse for a Red Wizard if you think anything but death is an acceptable reprisal for his disrespect."

Edwin smirked. "You will like it. Once you've cooled off. And as for my own problem; you have actually given me a very good idea. Would you mind disposing of the ghoul so I can have a little 'chat' with her?"

The drow frowned, looking from him to Dynaheir. Surely he did not think her an idiot? She eyed him uncertainly for a moment and then shrugged. "If you harm a hair on her head, I will tell the entire party it was you," she told him, and then she casually turned and walked away. The ghoul hopped after her.

* * *

Edwin smirked to himself, slipping quietly up behind the frozen woman. He knew she must have heard his coming, but he didn't want her to see him. In fact, he didn't yet say anything. Instead, he reached forward, slowly running taloned fingers up her shoulder blade.

_This will do. This will suffice. _

He reached out with both hands and pulled her hair back from her neck, easing it about her far shoulder. He collected stray hairs, and came close enough behind her that he knew she could feel his breath on her skin. Dynaheir could not so much as breath in sharply to signal she was alarmed, but he didn't require the feedback. He knew well enough what he was doing.

After a brief and torturous delay, he grasped her far shoulder and leaned in close to the bared one, so his breath would tickle her throat and her ear.

"Hello, sweet Dynaheir. It seems I have you to myself for a few minutes." He stroked a finger pad gently down the curve of her throat just once. "I wonder what I should do with you..."

He delayed for another long pause, in which he gently pet any remaining stray or disobedient hair back from her throat. "I suppose I could have let that ghoul snack on you. But no, no, I have more entertaining sport in mind. I am going to tell you a little story, Dynaheir... I am going to tell you about my fifteenth birthday present. I hope you are listening; it is lengthy.

"My household has a delightful collection of slaves. Some menial, some for pleasure, others for sport. I was a Red Wizard apprentice, and in Thay all children of arcane potential are taken in early childhood to be reared by other wizards; and strong family loyalties are rare among us for that reason.. My father, however, was also a Red Wizard. Those my visits home were short past a certain age, my father always made sure I knew I was a noble; the son of a tharchion; an _Odesseiron_. Power ran in our blood.

"On my fifteen birthday, he contrived an excellent bonding exercise involving a prisoner with an overdue death sentence. Now, the arts of torture and vivisection were of course not unknown to me; but my father was an experienced master, and our home of Surthay shares a border with Rashamen.

"He called me to the dungeons, to a chamber outfitted with every nameable little device and magic item. Psychological trinkets, he called them: a master's best tools are his mind, his medium's mind, and a collection of knives. High across the walls were many 'trophies' for atmosphere.

"And there, bound to the rack, gagged, do you know what splendid prisoner he had chosen to give me? Of course you must imagine it was a Rashemi; I've led you to believe nothing different. But to leave it at that would fail to properly acknowledge the magnitude of my _present_. This was no lost shepherd or raging beserker my father had reserved just for me.

"He had her mask nailed to the wall above her so I could be sure; a huntsman's trophy. A Halthran Wychlaran, Dynaheir! Can you imagine just how difficult it must have been to capture her alive, or how long he had been savoring her captivity? Her helplessness? A Halthran! An elite bitch queen of Rashamen! _That_ was my present, sweet little witch.

"He instructed me on the knife all over again, from the ground up," Edwin whispered, lifting his fingers to trace in imaginary lines over Dynaheir's flesh and robes. "Slow, patient slices for effect, quick ones for sudden drama; light damage for pain, deep for panic; splay the skin from side to side for emphasis. Learning the muscle groups and major veins helps," his fingers worked to demonstrate what he meant, and then lifted up to find a vein in the underside of her arm. "The limbs are useful because they reduce the chance of sudden death; beware the brachial artery when working with the arm; and be careful not to severe any nerve groups too permanently.

"Well, he would demonstrate a technique, heal her, and then have me repeat it. We cut back her flesh to see how Rasheman spirit magic had etched eldrich green runes in her bones. I tested how hard it was to sever her ribs, as her heart fluttered rapidly under nothing more than bone, tendon, and wasted muscle tissue.

"I flayed her alive. Slowly, painstakingly slowly." His fingers traced from her arms down her sides. "I learned patience. I learned how to _tease_. I showed her the look of her own organs as we removed them, as we disassembled her piece by curious piece.

"I should mention she had been geased to watch... My present lasted most of the day. We did not permit her to lose consciousness. Perhaps you think by that point she might be numb to pain or trauma; but then you are naive if not necessarily young, and you do not appreciate what a culture of mages with hundreds of years of practice are capable of.

"When we were done, it was at last time to take the Halthran's life. I looked to my father, to his expression of satisfaction and pride. He told me to make it count, and I did.

"I withered her moisture. Drained her flesh first, then her bones. I watched the effect it had. Then I put my hands up into her nearly empty chest cavity, and she died when I sucked dry her heart and lungs. I watched the light leave her eyes, and it was a very, very educational day."

Edwin smiled lazily, drawing his fingers gently back to Dynaheir's neck and shoulder. "I only wish I could take such time with you, sweet witch. I could easily draw it out longer this time..." He pulled back from her. Without another word, and with a very satisfied expression, he turned and calmly walked away. The paralysis would wear off any moment, and he needed there to be witnesses if Dynaheir should choose to attack him.

* * *

...


	31. The Baby

Dramatic tension! We now take a break from our regularly scheduled Aegis, for an intermission of Fabulous Foster Father Flasbacks!

Except that it's really an Eight Thousand Word Mega Climax if I'm being totally honest. I COULD have split it up into dramatic segments and held you guys off, but Gorion's story really is supposed to be interesting background information, and I didn't feel right presenting such a hectic and emotional ho-down as bit chapters in another person's story. In the end, I caved. It'll all be in one go :)

For the sake of being easy to read, I have decided to not put this chapter in Italics

* * *

The Baby

* * *

Gorion,

This is Tallix. I know I'm the last person you want to be getting a letter from. Lullorin said to get this map to you. She said it points the way to a Bhaalite temple, and that you'd know what to do with it. She seemed keen on you knowing who it was from. Take care of yourself. I'm getting to old for this.

- Tallix Snapdragon

PS: I shouldn't have to tell you that this is obviously a trap. If she's going to bait her hooks so fat, consider how sharp a blade she must have waiting for you.

* * *

The exterior of the fortified temple was gray, as were most things in the shadow plane and its pocket dimensions. Where torches were mounted on the temple's walls, the stone reflected yellow light down onto the massive commotion of clerics, wizards, rangers, bards, and paladins fighting on the fields below. Blood splattered like black oil across the ground, glimmering with bold, red, specular highlights when distant torchlight managed to touch it.

Looking down from the black metal towers, her elbow resting on a decorative skull and her chin on her fist, Tallix shook her head in admiration.

"Ye brought an entire army, lad," she laughed. "Is that a Solar? 'Tis! Never seen so many celestials in one spot in me whole life." She tried to catch sight of Gorion among the throng, but to be honest her vision was starting to lose its keen edge with the onset of age. Aside from which, everything was gray and poorly lit.

Abruptly she saw spires of ice, and realizes the aasimar was just about to breach the temple's outer walls. She shook her head. "Ye think yer a crusader? Come to take your vengeance on a god?" Tallix asked the air sadly. "Death ain't done showin' his hand, and ye don't even know the game yer playin'. Ye think ye've seen the worst? No. That were _prep work_, lad." She drew out a bone dagger, admiring its edge. "If ye leave here tonight, it'll be as a broken angel, or a fallen one."

Tallix twirled the dagger for awhile and then looked down to where many of the crusaders had already forced their way inside. She caught the dagger up and stared out at empty blackness. "Mind ye, won't _begrudge_ a keen surprise."

* * *

While they pounded away laying siege to the main hall and western barracks, Gorion breached the side chapel. An astral deva and a number of assistants followed him, and they quickly punched through everything in their way. He knew he was sticking his neck out by moving some distance from the group, but he didn't care. Icy fury ran cold in his blood.

Bhaal had 'lured' him there, and he intended to understand why. He dare not remain nestled at the heart of the raid, safe and ignorant of what horrors awaited them. Fortunately, if something happened to him, he was confident the men and women he'd rallied could finish the temple.

They found an infant being tended to be one of the cultists within the side chapel. Gorion quickly assessed it and then shook his head quietly. He drew out the dagger enchanted with Mystra's blue, and he calmly touched it to the little one's chest. A moment later the little one had burst into gold dust, which quickly was drawn up into the weapon.

"Keep moving," he told them.

As they pushed their way in the circular sacristy, a _Death Fog_ burst out from the depths of the blood-and-bone-lined chamber. The Astral Deva cried out as he was cast abruptly to his home plane and lost to them, and his Aura of Protection faded immediately. As Gorion shouted for his men to retreat backwards, a number of the less-experienced fools dropped on the spot. Others were protected by _Death Wards _and remained unharmed. A cleric of Lathander called out for a _Zone of Sweet Air_ to banish the vapors as Gorion summoned up an ice nova and cast it into the chamber beyond.

"Young idiots," Gorion hissed between his teeth, nearly glaring at the bodies he had failed to adequately protect. "Cast a _Haste_ and lift additional protections; I don't want us caught again!"

A hiss of air rushed out from the dark sacristy across the apse of the temple, carrying with it dark tendrils of what behaved like thick dark smoke. As their heart rates lifted in unison, the crusaders recognized their vulnerability to fear, and quickly cast to resist it.

"There's- Harper! There's something horrible in that chamber!" a young paladin called out.

A low, high-pitched scrape echoed out from the room, like metal on slate floors. Then a shape took form in the smoke, a humanoid creature, hovering slowly forward out of the vestibule. It was but three and a half feet tall, but the appearance of it stole the draconic from Gorion's lips and made him stumble back in utterly non-magical horror.

The creature was gaunt; skeletal. What passed for 'flesh' was a thin coating of ebody across its bones, gathering in defined, black-colored muscles across the pectorals and hips. Its fingers and toes were elongated and pointed, and no doubt distorted by necromantic magics. Its wrists and ankles were tiny, and its head was large enough to suggest that it was only a toddler; but all semblance of childishness was gone. The fingers of its left hand were wrapped about the haft of a massive scythe, the tip of which dragged bloody along the ground behind it.

It's face was a leering skull, lipless, with fanged teeth. But its sunken eyes were ice blue, and a tuft of silver hair flowed down from the top of its skull, already sporting short feathers. It was a child. A Bhaalspawn, Gorion alone knew, and a boy.

The men stumbled backwards in a ring about it, and not simply because of the _Death Fog_. They looked to one another for guidance. None of them could recognize what manner of creature this might b, as it looked inappropriately shaped for a Bone Devil. Nevertheless, they had faced incredible dangers that day, and they were not about to turn aside. They looked to Gorion for direction, but seeing that he was struck speechless they quickly shouted out a coordinated plan to one another and charged the floating monster.

Ice blue eyes stared at one another for a brief moment. Then the scythe was flying through the air, its razor-sharp edge cutting with all the unforgiving power of a deity of death. Limbs and entrails flew through the air. Spells flew at the creature searing with holy light and divine fire, but this creature was no demon or undead monster. Within moments, shadowy smoke was clogging the lungs of clerics and wizards. It turned to sharp ebon fingers once it got inside of them, and clawed open their internals till they were oozing blood from every orifice.

Within sixty seconds, Gorion stood alone before an abomination he had helped to create, and fresh blood was sprayed out all over the ground around him. The child did not advance, watching him for a long moment. Then it's gaze drifted to the side, and Gorion shuddered when a woman's voice floated up from behind him.

"I knew you'd come; and I knew you'd wander apart from the group. You just couldn't resist the urge to 'deal' with me personally, could you, Rion?"

Lullorin. Gorion didn't want to even think her name, but he did so involuntarily. It wasn't 'Lullorin.' It was Bhaal. Kazgorath. The woman whom he'd loved had never existed.

"You seem to have forgotten I am a god, Gorion. What made you think you could do anything to hurt _me_?" She laughed, coming into his field of few and smiling mischievously up at the black-skinned Slayer-child. "I suppose I shouldn't tease you, seeing as I provoked you to it on purpose."

"I have had enough of your games. I belong to Mystra and you have no business directly interfering with me; I know this now."

"Do you? Don't I?" the god-thing asked wryly, looking at him. Gorion grimaced up at the face of what had cruelly been his 'lover.'

"You baited me here," he sneered. "Hoping to finally kill me with some clever ambush? I have slain your pets, your minions, and your bastard spawn before. This monstrous child you've created will be no different."

"Kill you?" Kazgorath asked incredulously and then laughed. The mage frowned, turning fully to face her. "Gorion, why would I want to _kill_ something I have worked so hard on? Consider your own words carefully, little aasimar. You have slain my pets... slain my minions... slain my spawn... and you express eagerness to kill your own son."

The aasimar sneered in pain at the phrasing of that last statement, but Kazgorath merely leered.

"Bhaal is _Death_, Gorion," she spoke in a low, powerful voice. "Everything you have done, from the moment you first met the Slayer, has been in service to Death."

"Hardly," the magus spat. "I have done what I must, but for the good of lives everywhere."

"Oh have you?" the avatar cooed. "Tell me Gorion, because this is only a rumor and I want it validated. I am told you have taken up more direct worship of Mystra. They say you have made vows to the Lady of Magic, and become her cleric. I understand the motivation! Now you can enchant those daggers yourself and release the souls to Mystra. A sound plan for ensuring I do not again intercept them."

"What. Do. You. Want?" the aasimar hissed.

"Or so you would _think_," the death god smiled. "But I wonder... if you were deceived by the touch of a 'mortal' woman... perhaps you were also deceived by the touch of a divine one?"

"You are a disgusting excuse for a deity. That you were human once is obvious. I serve lady Myst-"

Kazgorath waved a hand, and the dagger Gorion was holding turned from blue to naked bone, with blood slicked along its blade. Gorion dropped it, startled. It floated in midair before him, ugly and trickling gold dust for a moment. Then it lit up with Mystra's colors once more.

"Why don't you call out to your 'Lady of Magic'?" Kazgorath purred, giving a wave of her hand as four more identical daggers appeared, clawing at the air around Gorion like fingers. "Yes, yes, call out to your god, little aasimar. See who answers you. See if the voice is somehow... _different t_his time."

Gorion quivered and lifted his gaze back to Bhaal, uncertain. The death god laughed. "Let me ask you, Gorion, why do you think your son has not attacked you? Do you believe he recognizes his father? Mm. Perhaps. More likely he recognizes one blessed by the Slayer. For all that we are shards derived from the same deity we are... quite different. The child is not under my control. He will probably not even move to harm you if I ask him."

Gorion took a step back. He looked to the dagger, and then to Bhaal. Then, suddenly frightened, he called out to Mystra for a _Divine Shield_.

Kazgorath- Bhaal- wearing Lullorin as his skin, crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. When the armor of faith rippled into being around the aasimar, it took on not Mystra's blues and reds, but rather the yellow and gold of the death god. Gorion cried out in alarm, stumbling backwards and slapping a palm to his mouth. "I-illusion!" he sputtered in disbelieving panic.

The god-thing laughed. "I _suppose_, Gorion. It _might_ be an illusion of mine. But then, why am I able to cast on you so directly? Shouldn't I be prohibited for interfering with Mystra's worshiper? Where is the Lady of Magic and her Chosen to defend you? Where are Lathander and his legions of angels come to save you?" She leered. "You stand here alone, Rion. Tell me, why have the gods _abandoned_ you to me? Why did no one and nothing protect you from Lullorin?"

Ice blue eyes darted up to her.

"Because you are _Bhaal's_, Gorion. _I_ am the god who claims you. I am the god who owns your soul, your afterlife, now. I am the one who grants your divine spells. From the moment you first met the Slayer, you have been mine."

"It can't- I never- NEVER- gave myself, pledged myself-!"

"Oh you 'gave' yourself, alright," Kazgorath sneered. "And your firstborn is proof enough of that. "You gave of yourself, and you survived the encounter. That you resurfaced intact and un-cursed was proof enough the Chosen of Mystra loved you. So you became Bhaal's prized chess piece, my prized chess piece. I weaned you from a startled acolyte into a beautiful, pure-blooded killer. You slaughtered so many countless men and women; lives I fed to your growing blood thirst, to encourage you, to strengthen you, and to fuel your adrenaline. And children! Oh, the innocent lives you took, the souls you delivered back unto me...!

Gorion shrank back, shaking his head in horror, trembling violently with a hand still over his mouth.

"You murdered children, Gorion. You murdered children! I am the GOD of murder! What ever made you think you could fight Death with death? No. You murdered children and gave my essence back up onto me. You are mine, Gorion. Your life is mine. Your soul is mine. And I have been oh so very careful to nurture you into what you are now. That child 'Lullorin' bore for you? That babe was just a catalyst; to give you the momentum you needed to tumble headfirst into my control, for good."

The aasimar stumbled and tripped, falling to the ground and crawling backwards from the smirking avatar. The god-thing grinned broadly then, and Lullorin's face was ugly pulled into such an expression.

"Breathe, Gorion. Breathe," she coaxed. "The world will not end. Time will not simply stop. You are not about to die. Nothing is going to happen to take this moment away from you, or alter the truth. You belong to Bhaal. And we- I- want to explain to you what that means. Mm, you can barely hear me, can you? Oh you are so frightened! No, no... Listen, Gorion. Shhh..."

Kazgorath lifted her hand, casting a spell to mute some of the fear and negative emotion she sensed in the shaking aasimar. The wizard shuffled backwards another foot, sucking in an unsteady breath of air. "What... what do you... what do you want from me...?" he croaked.

"Loyalty," the god-thing purred. "I know what fuels you, Gorion; I know what you want. Your affinity for fits of blood lust is old and embedded deep in your celestial heritage; I've just switched its polarity a little. But no, no, you are much more than your outsider blood. And though you are a clever creature; a planner, strategist, and adventurer; these are merely your skills. What drives you is more subtle, more soft. I will not take that from you! I will give you what you want."

"What are y-you talking-?"

"I will make of you a demiurge to rival my greatest and most life-long of servants, my high priestess, Amelyssan the Blackhearted," the avatar purred. "I will give to you the power to make differences in the world as you see fit; to never again end up powerless, misled, and confused... I will give you the protection the Chosen and Mystra could not-"

"What twisted circles do you speak in? Protection in exchange for what!? I am no Deathstalker monster!" the aasimar shrieked.

"I am not asking you to be. I do not intend your role to be born of violence, though I suspect you may engage in violence of your own volition. I have two thousand infant children whose mothers are abandoning them in the streets Gorion. And I am offering to put you- not Amelyssan- in charge of their fates.

"That means many things: In charge of rearing a chosen handful or overseeing those that are reared by Deathstalkers; The final authority on which ones live and which ones die. You may train some, hoping to help them survive against all the odds stacked against them. You may protect them from discovery and destruction; protect them from being rendered as gold light.

"You may guide them to unlock their abilities, and distribute your hints and your boons as you wish. And because I know you Gorion, I will give you the reward you crave. I will let you save all of my children whose taint has manifested weakly; and I will let you deliver them into the hands of the Harpers so that their souls might be 'saved' from dissolution at the hands of their siblings.

"I am offering you the position of Kingmaker, Mentor, and Guide," the deity seduced most tenderly. "And in exchange I will give you the freedom of those children you wish to spare. I shall not be cruel to you again, Gorion. No, in fact I most desperately need you. There are those out there who will try to use my spawn's divinity as a means to their own end... and I need a little crusader like you in order to stop them. Someone who will put the children first..."

"You are sick," Gorion whispered, gaping horrified up at the deity.

"But I am the only choice you have left," Kazgorath purred. "You are broken now, Gorion; and only I can help raise you to your feet. The other gods will not hear your pleas; you will disgust them with the darkness I've placed within you. I will follow you and distort your vision wherever you go, haunting you into murder after murder. When you die, you will be mine either way. Instead of letting you die alone and purposeless, I offer you the chance to save at least a few."

That stunned the wizard to silence. The god watched him almost piteously for a moment, and then nodded.

"When you are ready, offer me a sacrifice. I do not mean a life, of course; your role is more unique than that. Make a simple sacrifice of blood from your left hand. I have promised you that when you accept my patronage in full, the fate of the individual children will be yours to decide. I left Lullorin's son to your discretion, and now I shall leave the Slayer's."

* * *

"Remember. Blood from your left hand. That is all the violence I shall ever force from you, Gorion. When you are ready."

The avatar of Bhaal faded away to some other plane, and her spells against fear and emotional distress vanished with her. Suddenly overwhelmed, Gorion struggled to roll onto his hands and knees. His stomach heaved and he was nauseous all over the ground, several times in succession. When his insides stopped roiling so violently, he turned his head slowly to peer back at the hovering 'toddler,' its bones dark as ebon, its silver hair curled about its cheeks.

Hatred rushed through him then. Hatred. Frustration. Anger. Abandonment. Loss. He stood, shaking violently, and looked at the enchanted dagger where it floated in the air. The dagger which ought to have belonged to Mystra, but which did not. Mystra, whom ought to have protected him from other gods and their avatars, but whom had not. On the floor all around him were bodies of her servants, slain by a son he'd sired. Among them were Lathanderites. Lathander! A god whom had never prevented the impersonation of one of his clerics; a god who claimed to love and want him through the blood of Gorion's own grandmother!

Damn them. Damn all of them, and damn- to the depths of some numb and helpless purgatory- the god of death!

He grabbed the dagger because there was nothing else he could do. The child would slaughter his other companions, and it appeared to have mastered death spells that could banish even celestials. He strode directly up to it, to where it hovered quietly in the center of the room, the great scythe still clutched in one of its tiny clawed hands. It was a baby, and yet it was a monster, and there had never been anything he could have done for it.

Gorion wiped tears from his face with his sleeve, and noted how the child was watching him with the same sociopathic curiosity as its divine parent had. It was like a cat, an animal; amoral, cruel, and bizarrely innocent in its darkness. Innocent! The magus' face contorted in rage and pain. He lunged towards the floating creature, slicing across the skeletal throat with one fluid motion.

The half-god recoiled backwards in surprise. Then it dropped from the air, hitting the ground and stumbling to its rear. Clawed fingers touched to its throat for a second, and ice cold eyes blinked up at him in bewilderment. Gorion's face momentarily unclouded. He straightened in surprise, staring down confused at the skeletal child's face.

"I..." he whispered, not even knowing what he meant to say. He frowned and then tried to kneel, reaching down towards the injured thing.

Then a startled and broken curse leaked forth from his lips as the little one cracked apart, its fragments whirling off into golden clouds which arced slowly toward the dagger. A dagger which Gorion promptly dropped. A shaking paranoia towards all things was building up in his gut.

He was going mad. He was going _mad._ Who would Bhaal impersonate next? Khelben and Elminster? The whole of Faerun? Was Gorion even standing in a temple, or instead was he locked in some inordinately complicated Maze spell? What could he trust? Mystra? _Mystra!_

He dropped to his knees in the steadily dissipating remains of his child, the golden dust rippling around him in curtains. He pawed weakly, helplessly at the radiance for a moment. Then tears were slipping freely down his face. A sob shook through him, and then another, and another. He covered his face.

"Help..." he begged meekly of the world, curling up on himself on the floor. He was surrounded by vanishing golden light, by the blood of his followers, by death. "Help... help, please help me. Any god, any god brighter than this! If any of you can hear me, if any of you have ever heard me, please, p-pleas-se-" He sniffled in hard, choking on phlegm and cries of hysteria. The sounds of battle echoed up through the walls of the temple.

"Please," Gorion begged the uncaring heavens, his breath heaving as he rubbed his face. "Please, something save me!" His lips trembled. "Save me from him; from m-myself, from-" His voice cracked at that last, and he whimpered: "Am I so lost? That none of you could p-pity me...? That you'd l-leave me here to him? I d-don't want this! I don't want this! I would serve any of you! I would follow you all the days of my life I w-would- Am I worth nothing? Am I nothing?" He stared out between the fingers of his hands. His voice had risen with conviction but then broke into helpless air.

"Help me," he breathed. "S-show me a path. Please. Any path! I w-will follow as you lead!"

_Wait, any path?_ Chai asked him mentally, and he felt a rustle as the sugar glider nosed gently out of his hood. _But how would you know it wasn't just Bhaal lying again?_

He shuddered. Chai had just underscored the sheer depths of his helplessness, his damnation. He could try to judge any path set before him, but Bhaal had already shown his offers could at least resemble goodness on the surface. "I'm so lost," he whispered, tears spilling fresh down his cheeks. "I'm so lost...!"

_Rion..._ Chai hesitated. _I think I know how he did it._ The mage looked to her. _I think I know how big mean evil Death got to you. And why it's like he's in your head! Why no one was able to help you, not even other gods! If... If I'm right, some of what he's shown you might still be smoke and mirrors!_

The aasimar shook his head, not understanding what she was alluding to.

_Ri-Ri, he shouldn't be able to do this to you!_ She hopped back and forward._ No! Not to impersonate other gods- no there must be a logical explanation! I will no- never-nope-not! accept he's all powerful and you're doomed and helpless and blah! I thought about it forever Rion, for months, and finally I think I know the answer!_

He straightened slightly, looking at her.

_It's me, Rion! __I'm part of you, but Bhaal killed me and brought me back to life! I've been tampered with!_ The mage's eyes widened._ I believed everything he's done to you since then, including Lullorin, was only possible because he did something to me first, and you 'accepted' me from him!_

"No. Chai," he whispered, shaking his head and reaching over to scoop her up in his hand. "There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing."

_No! You stop feeling sorry for yourself and start thinking like a wizard! _Chai instructed him _I'm so unhappy my tail looks like a pine cone, but we have to do something, and now!_

He shuddered. "I'll take you to Khelben," he realized. "I'll-"

_Gorion he's not going to let you go! He's let you kill kill kill whole temples! He's never going to let you go if he sees your plan coming- but he won't see this coming because on the surface it sounds so stupid for you to do!_

"Chai, what are you-?"

_You need to let me die, Ri-Ri! You need to let me go, like you didn't on the day you met the Slayer! _

"No." His eyes widened. "No, Chai- That is the LAST things that would make sense-!"

_Exactly!_ she agreed. _But so there's nothing that'll stop you from doing it!_

"You are all I have!" he shouted. "I'm not going to kill you, Chai! You're the last voice I trust! I would seal my fate- I would lose you- I'm not _killing_ you after I just- I just-!"

_After you just killed your pups? _she asked, and Gorion gagged. She lifted a little paw to his face. _There is a difference, Rion. Many. I'm your familiar; my soul will go where you go._

"Chai!"

_Also I am consenting. I am instructing! I'm not gonna blame you if you do it and we're wrong._

"Chai, never!"

_But most importantly-_

"Stop!"

_I am trying to save us. To save you, _she told him patiently. _If you can't get him out of your head, we'll lose more than our lives. Think, Ri-Ri! How else could he be interacting with you so easily? There has to be a trick!_

Gorion swallowed hard, shaking his head numbly. "No."

_I love you, Gorion. I know you love me. But now you need to let me go, so we can find out if there is some chance of freeing you and saving anyone!_

"You're asking me to murder you! To murder you- you- my-! I will DAMN myself in doing such a thing!"

_Damn? If we don't stop him from reaching you, you are gonna be 'damned' anyhow. No gods, allies, friends, or enchantments have protected you from him since the Slayer! Now I've finally got an explanation that addresses why he's been able to bully you! I have an explanation for Lullorin! You've got to listen!_

"I will hold out against him- I will take refuge in an asylum if I must but, Chai, do not abandon me!"

_Rion. I firmly believe: the moment I die, an enchantment will break on you. That dagger will show for what it really is. If the gods are reaching for you, you will hear them. A veil will be lifted from your senses, and from that moment forward you will see true things again._

"And if you're wrong!?"

_Then I'm so sorry, but after a year of lies and betrayal and confusion, it's the only explanation I've found at all. If I leave you alone to face the end, then I'm so sorry, but it won't be a good end even if I stayed. It's a gamble; A risk; but it's the only one we know of, anywhere, that can possibly save you. Here there are no illusions for him to spin; just a mage and his familiar. If you trust me, take this shot in the dark. Pray, too!_

Gorion hugged Chai to him, sputtering miserably about how he had followed logic and sensibility his whole life. His risks had always been calculated. He couldn't just... just ignore so many thousands of whirling, alternative explanations behind why Bhaal might want him to murder his familiar as some final damning act.

Chai reminded him Bhaal had nothing to gain from killing her, and begged him to have faith in the death god's limitations. Those limitations, she reassured him, had to be nearby and just out of their reach.

_No god can force a man to worship them! _she insisted. _Your grandmother didn't abandon you. The Chosens didn't abandon you! The only explanation is some kind of curse, and the only possible source now that your pup is dead is ME._

"I can't. I can't."

_I'm part of you! Given life to help you! And now I am giving it back. I'm your mental backup when times are tough, and now is the toughest time of all. Ri-Ri. Do it. I forgive you already._

"Chai-" he sobbed.

_I love you. I trust you. Trust me._

His fingers wormed around her little body, and he tucked his thumb and forefinger around her head. "I love you," he whispered, and then he did as she had told him.

* * *

Pain.

Gorion choked, clutching Chai's tiny body to him and doubling up in agony. He screamed her name. He bawled and rocked himself, and his heart thundered in his breast.

The divine armor wavered around him and then vanished. Beside him, the floating dagger plummeted to the ground. He looked up trembling, but he had no means to determine if these events had been genuinely caused by Chai's death or instead orchestrated by an insane, master manipulator. He shook his head bleakly, hardly able to see for the tears.

"Help me," he begged. "Show me a path. Any path, and I will follow you. I don't care how difficult... how lonely... If you save us, I will follow you..."

No thundering voice came to enlighten or rescue. He shuddered and curled up with his dead familiar, hugging his knees inwards towards himself. The battle din had grown louder, but he scarcely heard it. Time was passing, he knew, but not how much.

He was running out of tears, voice, and energy. He was raw, from the skin of his cheeks, to the meat of his throat, to the caverns of his soul. His being ached from top to bottom.

_A sound. Soft. Then louder. A gentle prod._

The aasimar's eyelashes lifted, his blue irises thin around dilated and unseeing pupils.

_Another burst of impetus, and again a sound._

The mage's pupils contracted slowly, bringing the world back into focus.

_Crying. _He could hear someone crying. Dazed, his limbs and brain feeling akin to jelly, Gorion lifted his head and looked around. For a moment he heard only silence; the din was white noise to him. Then he heard the cry once more and he staggered to his feet with a lurch of primitive instinct. The crying had come from the same direction as the fighting, and Gorion hesitated only a moment before pursuing it.

His feet carried him onward as he listened, like a dreamer. Some of his faculties _were_ coming back to him, and he realized how raw the crying sounded. It was the hoarse, loud bleating of a newborn, not the tormented shrieks of a developed person. It was a sound rivaled only by cats and goats in its ability to call a human's attention.

Back the crying led him, back through rooms and halls, straight through the thick of battle. He moved like a ghost. Part of him remembered the details of Bhaal's offer, but another part could no longer care. An overwhelming, desperate sensation was building up within him. _Something_ needed him. _Something_ was crying for him. For him to come, as if his were the only hands in the world, and _doom_ was inevitable without him. He _had_ to find the source.

He entered hallways that no crusader had yet turned down, and paused at a juncture or two. A cry would lead him on. AT last he shoved through a door into some place of torture. Rather than altars, the high tables around him felt like work benches.

There were two adults laboring within, each equipped with bone daggers and each with their backs turned towards him. Never breaking his stride, Gorion murmured in draconic. The man nearest him was wrestling to control a four year old boy, who was debating himself furiously. On hand was a basin for gathering blood. Farther from him, a priestess was humming soothingly as she worked her blade over a writhing infant. Its pudgy little feet kicked helplessly at the air as she slit carefully along its flesh. The dagger was oozing black smoke.

Gorion's first bolt of ice impaled the man outright through the breast. The little boy yelped and scrambled away from all of them in surprise; while the priestess whirled to face her assailant, her eyes widening in rage. A moment alter, and Gorion realized he had mistaken her power. She was casting _Wail of the Banshee_, and her success would no doubt snuff out the lives of both children.

It took little to no thought for him to lunge at her. His sudden motion cut her off mid-syllable, and she brought up her bone dagger to defend herself. The tip sunk deep into his collar as they hit the ground, struggling for control of the dagger as Gorion attempted to choke her. Vaguely, the aasimar was aware of footsteps. Then a toddler's hands appeared in his vision, clutching a second dagger. The little boy! He drove the dagger straight into the priestess's left eye. She lurched, cried out, and then went abruptly still.

Gorion sat up in mute surprise, staring down at the little boy. The eyes which stared up at him glittered briefly with a repressed golden fire. "Are you okay?" the surely Bhaal-spawned child asked him.

The courtesy of the words caught Gorion off-guard. He hesitated a moment and then pulled the priestess's dagger from his own shoulder. A rush of euphoria struck him as he grasped the hilt, and when it was free he dropped it in disgust. "I... Yes. What is your name?" he asked the boy.

The child frowned. "Sare... Sarevok."

Gorion stared at him a moment, taking in the sight of the fading golden tint to his eyes. Then he shook his head. "You need to run now. There is a portal leading out. Find it and go through, and do not talk to anyone. Everyone you meet will try to kill you."

"But- what? But why!?" the boy wailed in surprise.

Gorion shook his head. "You will be safer outside of this temple. Find someone who will take care of you-" His words were cut off by the sudden resurgence of hysterical bawling. That cry! Gorion's gaze jerked high, to the table on which the newborn child was clearly still alive. _This_ was the voice which had drawn him halfway across the temple. A tremor shook through the aasimar and then he surged to his feet and stumbled to the altar.

There, resting on the tattered remains of makeshift swaddling, was a monster. A baby girl, but a monster. The flesh from hr fingers and from parts of her face had been flayed away, and somehow transformed by dark necromancy. She was no ordinary Bhaalspawn, and her bones gleamed up ebony at him betwixt her severed muscles and missing skin. Her now skeletal fingers had been sharpened and elongated. A hole in the back of her cheek revealed sharp teeth had pushed up into her mouth. He knew what he was looking at, and he groaned.

_A child of the Slayer._

Gorion shuddered, clutching his wounded shoulder and shaking his head in defeat. He would not take Bhaal's offer. But neither was he going to kill anything else that day. He took a step backwards, grimacing in all conceivable forms of pain. Yet as he moved, the child suddenly looked to him. Her eyes were the grayish blue of rain. Her hair hugged in tight, fuzzy golden curls about her head. She mumbled weakly at the sight of him, and he realized he looked very different from a Bhaalite. Then a pleading bleat escaped her throat, and she kicked her heels and writhed with renewed vigor. Her sharp little fingers reached out uncoordinated, and she signaled clear enough for any man to read that she wished to be picked up.

"She's a monster," the little boy mumbled. "They were going to feed her my blood! They say she only eats blood!"

"You need to run," Gorion whispered. He turned to the child and began casting. First he cast _Protection from Evil, _followed by _Non-Detection _and _Improved Invisibility. _"There. This should get you safely to the exit. Run outside, and look for where all the 'good' people are coming from. Don't talk to anyone. Hurry as fast as you can through the portal, and then flee into the city. Don't stop until no one could possibly know you came from this place."

There was silence for a moment. Then he felt arms wrap about his midsection. "Thank you," the child called Sarevok mumbled. Then he was gone, and the newborn Slayer-thing was crying with all her tremendous might. Gorion swallowed hard at these sensations, his heart starting to pound within his chest again. He turned slowly back to the work table, looking down at the damaged child. His stomach trembled, and he reached out towards her in confusion.

Ebon fingertips clung immediately to his own. The baby hiccoughed and whimpered, but did not cry. The sudden touch seemed to calm her. Shakily, Gorion stepped closer to examine her again. It seemed as if she had been born in the shape of a normal child, and the cultists had ben literally cutting down to expose the divinity within her. Bits of muscle and skin lay in neat piles around the edges of the work bench.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered helplessly. "I am done. I refuse to kill."

The baby whimpered plaintively, trying to take his fingers into his mouth. Her lips were still largely intact, and her gums were bare of teeth for much of her mouth. He let her have his hand, and she closed her jaws on one finger. She began to suckle then, sniffling and mumbling.

Gorion stared down at her for a very long time. When he moved, he again felt as if he moved through a soup of dreams. His hands left her face and scooped around her shoulder and rump. He picked her up from the altar, holding her aloft as she wiggled and cried. There he hesitated, hating and fearing Bhaal with everything in him. But each fresh cry was a hole torn into his soul, until he found himself cradling her to his breast with scarcely any memory of having done so. He bounced, hushed, and rocked her, getting her into the curve of one arm so that he could return a hand to her face.

She clung and suckled to her heart's content. A baby. A blood-drinking, dagger-fingered one; but a baby.

"It's okay," he whispered, voiceless. "It's okay, it's okay." Her fingers lifted up and siezed up a handful of his hair. He winced and then trembled at the big crocodile tears slipping down her reddened face. He shifted her weight a moment and then paused, staring at her makeshift swaddling. It had been made from a torn priest's hood, he suddenly realized, but it did not carry the skull and blood of Bhaal. It was cream colored and emblazoned with the universal symbol of knowledge, inset with the Holy Symbol of Oghma.

_Oghma?_

Gorion took in a deep, almost frantic gulp of air. He staggered backwards from the altar, looking from the visible edge of the sigil back to the Bhaalspawn's torn face. He had never seen another spawn so suffused with their father's taint; except, of course, for his own black-skinned son. This baby was _consumed_ with it. She had been sired by a far darker and more primal Death than any spawn of Kazgorath's, and she reeked of underworld taint.

Yet the little hummed cries she made with each breath as she suckled, and the clinging of her fingers latched tightly in his hair; these things were the natural behaviors of any infant. He stared not at the holy symbol, but at her poor face. He looked into her gray-blue eyes, and at her expression of pain, fear, confusion, frustration, abandonment, and panic. He saw trust there, and need. Her little chin was rounded, and her face would be oval-shaped when she was older. Where her flesh was undamaged it was nevertheless thin with malnutrition. In fact, her neck was so thin and fragile it scarcely looked able to support her head.

"Hello," he murmured abruptly. "I see I'm not the only one having a bad day, huh?"

Her muffled whimpers died down a little further at his sympathetic tone. She sniffled for air. Heavy-lidded eyes, now puffy with tears, peered searchingly up at him. _Are you mine?_ she seemed to ask. _Do I belong to you?_ His fingers brushed gently over her little arms and tummy. Then with a quiver, he drew her up close to his face. She stopped suckling to tuck her own face into him, and he cradled her tightly in both hands.

He had never held any of the children, including his own. He did so now, inhaling deeply to steady himself. Inadvertently he drew in the smell of her, and for some reason _that_ sent another tremor down his spine. Did babies have a certain _smell_ to them? A scent of earth and water? She smelled simultaneously _clean_ (despite being filthy, malnourished, and bruised) and like musk. A mute sob shook the magus involuntarily, and he held the baby to himself much longer than he had intended. A sense of sorrow and peace descended over him all in one.

When she started rubbing her face into him, he was oblivious for a moment. Then very old memories of hand-rearing a baby sugar glider resurfaced in his mind, and he realized she was 'rooting,' which meant she was instinctively looking for a teat to nurse from. The motion was so animal, so natural, that he nearly broke down crying. "I have no milk for you," he whispered. "A-and you cannot have the blood from my shoulder. It is my left shoulder, and I think I'd end up damned on technicality..." She mumbled hungrily and he nodded his understanding.

He needed to disappear. He needed to get out of the temple, out of the pocket plane, and out of the country. He needed to vanish until he could figure out what to do. Most importantly, he needed a fresh barrel of goat's milk.

"I have you," he whispered to her. "Oghma guide me, I have you. Don't cry."

* * *

He headed quiet from the torture room, drifting back towards the entrance of the temple. His mistake only revealed itself to him when he entered the temple atrium and was hailed by a gaggle of his followers.

"Is that one of the spawn, Gorion?" a cleric asked while approaching him swiftly. "Is the taint weak enough/"

"Unnh!" gagged the elf paladin standing behind him. "I-I can smell it from here! We... we have one of the daggers. Has yours been lost? We _will_ recover it, but for now at least we can help you deal with the spawn."

Gorion went ramrod straight at their words, his eyes widening. _What? No. No! _The wizard stepped backwards, trying to free a hand from around the infant so he could cast. _Cast? Cast what? Twenty of them, and I have no enchantments prepared to hold them! Am I going to try and kill them!? _They couldn't have the child. They couldn't kill his_ child_!

"Rion?" came a familiar voice, and the magus turned swiftly about to see Winthrop approaching him from behind. "Have you found anything?" He looked surprised at the swaddled bundle, and Gorion recalled the stories Winthrop had told him about his experiences with vampires.

_No. No! No, no, no, no, no no no no nono nononononono! Get back! Get back, all of you, don't look at her, don't so much as glimpse-!_

A blinding flash erupted through the chamber, followed by a boom as black smoke exploded from end to end of the atrium. All around him people began to choke and Gorion gave a mental curse as he veiled the baby's face with his cloak. He felt an arm tugging him along to help him out of the cloud and he frantically tried to think of how he was going to successfully hide the baby.

When he could see again, he coughed and blinked rapidly. Then he recoiled at what he saw. Standing before him was a one-eyed halfling, her brow raised curiously. "Ye pulled a fast one so sudden, I done still be dizzy," she exclaimed.

"You-!" Gorion sputtered.

"Lad, lemme ask ye. Ye got any idea what ye be holdin' right now?" Tallix queried. "That ain't a baby, ye realize? More like an Otyugh or pet demon ye keep in yer basement for scaring off morons and eaten yer 'garbage.'"

"You deceptive little bitch," Gorion hissed. "All along! All along you-"

"Aye, I were a Bhaalite. A Chosen of Death, to be exact; Tallix Snapdragon, Assassin Extraordinaire! Ain't told ye many truths since I met ye; but ta be fair, I didn't know ye were actually bangin' _him_! Figured that one out afterward, I did. 'Twas clever, really."

He snarled, again trying to free a hand for casting. The baby shrieked and he cursed, grabbing her to him and rocking her. Tallix regarded him strangely. "Well," she decided, "I had two sets of instructions. One to guide ye if ye folded; the other ta shadow ye if ye still needed time." He sneered angrily up at her. "Ain't neither the case, so me duty be fulfilled," she continued. "Suppose I won't be seein' ye again any time soon."

His furious expression wavered. "What- what are... I have had enough of your 'innocence' for one lifetime!"

"Aye, suppose ye have. Just run, Gorion," Tallix told him quietly. "Don't look back; hide in plain sight among friends; if yer lucky he won't get ye alone again. And, eh, by the next time ye see me, have a means ta detect lies a' hand. Maybe then I really will go and tell ye the truth from start ta finish."


	32. Poetic Justice

Poetic Justice

..

* * *

_Khelben blinked, startled as the magical dove flew into his open window. It landed beside his hand, unscathed by any of his wards. Who had sent him this?_

More bad news?_ he wondered glumly. It had been a month, but Khelben was still bitter and frustrated. He reached over to pull the scroll from the dove's satchel. Then his eyes widened at the seal it bore: a simple, dignified 'G.'_

_"Where have you been!?" the archmagi shouted, standing up and rapidly unraveling the message. "You aren't dead!? Where have you been!?" _

_He unrolled the scroll to find the briefest message anyone had written him in several centuries:_

_"Southgate, tomorrow at dawn, please."_

_It was Gorion's handwriting, through scrawled untidily as if drunk or written upon a moving horse. Khelben shook his head in disbelief._

_"Dawn," the archmagi murmured. "Gorion, what happened? What have I let happen to you?"_

_.._

* * *

Dynaheir was gray faced when she rejoined the group, though she did not say a word about her experience to anyone. She found Minsc and sought the comfort of his arm. He could certainly tell something was wrong, but Dynaheir brushed his concerns aside.

The Thayvian glanced over at her, a lizard like smile on his face. When it became clear she did not yet intend an attack, he turned his attention elsewhere and handed Imoen a few silk pouches of spell components. Dynaheir watched the him from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, realizing now that even the softest gestures could contain great malice.

Xan must have noticed her demeanor, because he came over with a concerned expression on his face. "Is something amiss?" Dynaheir was relieved for an excuse to speak with the enchanter.

She tapped her temple, glad that Imoen was drawing the Red Wizard's attention for now. Xan lifted a brow and stood back, casting a _Detect Thoughts_ spell. A few moments later, he nodded quietly to her.

_"I wish to speak with you at length this evening," _Dynaheir thought clearly._ "Alone, after the others have gone to rest. Even if we are still in this dungeon by then." _The elf inclined his head slightly. Though she regretted subjecting Xan to such imagery, she turned her thoughts back to the top of the hour and began to recall the 'storytelling' that Odesserion had subjected her to. Xan stiffened, his eyes getting a far-away look as he felt, witnessed, and listened to Dynaheir's mental retelling of the event. A horrified expression tugged his mouth low.

When at long last the enchanter turned a suffering, disbelieving gaze back onto her, Dynaheir felt relieved. His revulsion settled her heart rate, and legitimized the sense of violation she had experienced. She was not overreacting or imagining things; the Thayvian _had_ overstepped by a league.

..

* * *

"Xzar would find this ironic," Aegis noted.

By the end of the day, they had cleared a path down to the chamber directly over Deneir's temple, and the party could feel negative energy seeping up ice cold through the floor. They had managed to gather the appropriate Seals, but the late hour combined with scathing group tempers prompted Aegis to call for a second night of camping. They retreated to a circular room with four entryways.

Two of these entryways led down into a broken cavern which had formed in and around the ruins of the necromancy Tower. Whilst Dynaheir and Branwen set up their protective circle and Ajantis, Minsc and Kagain watched their backs, the rest of the party had headed down to investigate if the necromancy tower would be giving them trouble. What they found was surprising.

"There do not seem to be many undead down here," Edwin noted curiously. "I was expecting this to be the nexus of the infestation."

"I expected similarly," Viconia agreed. "But it appears necromancers are wise enough to ward their structures against undeath. These stones are broken, but they still carry dweomers to resist negative energy. But... there is something vaguely _familiar_ down here."

They heard a high-pitched effeminate shriek and turned to their lefts. Shar-Teel raised a brow at their gazes and then pointed to where Xan was gaping in open-mouthed horror into the darkness. Ahead of him and heading up into the ceiling was a cluster of four enormous spiders, peering curiously down at the party with their unblinking eyes. Viconia made a face of dismay.

Xan staggered backwards, and then his eyes rolled up in his head and he hit the ground hard. Shar-Teel watched him go down, despite the fact that she was in easy-assistance range. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Xan!" Imoen exclaimed, running over to help him. "Shar-Teel, he could have hit his head!"

"Not my problem," the fightress muttered, though she leaned over to make sure she didn't see any blood. Maybe she was just a _little_ concerned. Maybe? Ugh.

"I say we kill them all, cook them for dinner, burn their webs, and search the ashes for valuables," Viconia announced, casting some blessings on herself as she prepared for battle. "Who is with me?"

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Aegis laughed. "Some days I wish Kivan was here."

Edwin smirked. "You wish to disassemble something? Sounds delightful, Viconia; permit me to assist."

* * *

Edwin noted with amusement that any group following Aegis always seemed to partake of a great deal of infighting. He was mildly disappointed that Dynaheir hadn't taken his bait; but when they had returned to camp, they found Ajantis and Kagain in a shouting arguments about ideals and pragmatism. Ajantis has a dent in his armor which suggested Kagain had taken a very hefty shot at him.

Dynaheir was restraining Ajantis, Minsc had a hand on Kagain's shoulder, and Branwen stood between the two men as a reminder they weren't to get near each other. Aegis sighed and went up to diffuse the situation.

Edwin rolled his eyes and then waved Imoen over. She was supporting Xan, and the three of them set to finishing the protective circle so the group could get some sleep that night. Viconia joined them, settling down a bundle of spider legs she had insisted on collecting.

"Was that necessary?" the enchanter asked her quietly. He was already suffering a form of psychological pain from being in such close proximity to Edwin after what Dynaheir had shared with him.

Viconia leered at him. "What's the matter elf? Spider legs are _delicious_." She docked her head to the side. "Going to charm me into throwing them away?"

Xan was quiet a moment. Then he sighed. "Casting such magic on you is inappropriate," he admitted. "I apologize."

The dark elf sneered and shook her head in disbelief. "You are such a sniveling creature." Xan didn't answer.

"Viccy, lay off," Imoen grumbled, tossing her hood back so that she could see better in the dim lighting. Some of her hair got in her face, and she reached up irritably to detangle her messy ponytail and swiftly retie it. She needed a hair cut soon. Perhaps she should ask Kagain for his advice? Heh!

..

* * *

Edwin put Imoen to studying magic that evening, hoping the mental exercise would help her sleep that evening. He gave her his spellbook, and she immediately plopped down cross-legged to inspect the spell he'd turned to. When their protective circle had been tested, he came back to her side, laid out his palette, and then leaned up against the wall to see where she was at.

Imoen had a few questions for him to answer, though he was a little distracted. The Halthran's execution was one of his most vivid memories, and it persisted like a bead of adrenalin, keeping him in a state eager for action. He glanced from time to time up at where Dynaheir still looked incredibly uncomfortable. The witch had been avoiding standing within a several-yard radius that entire day; here and there she shot him a worried or condemnatory glance. He knew she had to be at her wit's end, and though he was uncertain he'd be able to push her over the edge just yet, he knew he could at least keep her on the precipice. His mind wandered, searching for an amusing way to bother her.

When Dynaheir sat down to eat she as vaguely facing in the hooded duo's direction. Edwin smirked, sat up straight, and rummaged in his pack for something. Then he shifted closer to Imoen, leaning near her to speak quietly. "If you do not say a word, or bother me about it in the slightest, I will do something 'nice' for you," he told her.

"Oh dear. I shudder to think what the peacock dragon thinks is nice!" Imoen really did give a dramatic shudder. Edwin grimaced and looked about ready to retract the topic. "Okay, okay. I will not lift my head from the book or say a word," she promised.

Edwin eyed Imoen suspiciously, but the opportunity to unnerve Dynaheir was too alluring to pass up. After a moment of consideration, he flicked off his apprentice's hood and then reached up and pulled her messy pony tail free. Imoen paused, shifting slightly but remembering not to look up or say anything. No doubt Imoen's expression was quiet ridiculous when he reached up and began combing through her hair with his nails.

Dynaheir didn't catch the motions immediately but, with Imoen silenced, Edwin had little impetus to surrender. A few moments passed as he worked out the worst snags and began to braid. When the Wychlaran caught sight of him, the sequence of expressions which passed over her face were _exactly_ what he'd wanted. At first she was merely surprised, not registering entirely what she was seeing. Then her eyes rounded in incredulity. Incredulity turned to horror and distress, and her complexion grayed as he no doubt _keenly_ reminded her of their altercation in the store room only that morning.

Edwin smiled to himself, tying off the first braid and proceeding to the second, using his thumbnail gently across her scalp to divide precisely as much hair as he wished. He worked slowly and carefully, so each gesture was obvious. After a time, he paused and pulled the majority of Imoen's hair back from the braid, tossing it over the other side of her head and her shoulder. He pet stray hairs back from her throat, and then leaned close.

"Study, waif," he urged her, earning a strangled noise from Imoen, whose expression truly was laughable. Dynaheir clutched white-knuckled at her plate. Edwin smiled lazily and continued to braid. He was implementing modern Mulhorandi row braids. Extended to the back of her head, they ought to serve the same function as a hair tie.

"I need to know," she squeaked. "Need. Why does the man of nobility know how to dress hair?"

Edwin grimaced in annoyance, more of the implication of the question than anything else. Did she think he had been carried around on feathered pillows since birth? Slaves were pleasant, but he'd had few enough of them while apprenticing. He was not some pampered child, ignorant of how to shave or dress himself. He could build a camp fire and pitch a tent when he absolutely had to. He could even cook. A little_. _A person needed to be self-sufficient when the circumstances called for it; whether they liked it or not.

But at least she was too ignorant to aim the question at his Mulan blood or highborn Thayvian fashion. At last he sighed and gave her a partially truthful answer. "Adversity has a way of bringing out talents that lie dormant," he answered with a wry drawl. "Spying in nearby Mulhorand... staging raids... assassinating irritable Wychlaran... the road spares pitifully few luxuries, and even fewer good barbers."

Imoen smirked at him, acknowledging the good natured humor without another word. Then she went back to studying.

Dynaheir was no longer watching but, since he wagered she was still very much aware, Edwin went on to complete the full set of braids. Imoen's hair was uneven, and unruly; and not a single inch of it seemed incline to go along with what any other inch was doing. Parts were straight, others curled, some were frizzy, and some patches curved in obedient waves. But the hair was soft and pliant, and thick enough for the task at hand; and with enough clawing and a bit of a comb he was able to bend the chestnut strands to his authoritarian will.

It was mindless enough work, and he spent it thinking about how he might goad the Wychlaran into a fight.

It was probably for the best he was not paying attention, as he missed many other facial expressions which might have annoyed him and spoiled his good mood. The absolute, staggering nonsense of the ill-tempered Red Wizard grooming another living creature was bizarre to everyone who witnessed it. Particularly to Viconia, who eyed them both shrewdly but did not speak.

..

* * *

The act of killing was not foreign to Edwin, but the Halthran's death had an especially colorful place in his memory.

He could recall much more than the sequence in which the woman had been flayed and disemboweled. On the rare occasion he had cause to recall the event, his memory could conjure up scenes that were as vivid as the original event had been. He could remember the feeling of the knife in his hand, the warmth of blood, the sound of her breaths, the copper smell in the air and the stench of entrails.

Consequentially, he fully expected to relive the execution some time after he bunked down for the evening. It took some time for sleep to find him with so many thoughts stirring up his head; and with him both a little paranoid of Dynaheir and most certainly itching for a fight. When at last the evening claimed him, he dreamed deep and red.

The Red Wizard's fingers twitched and his eyes moved rapidly between closed-lids.

Within the dream the memories were real; cold metal slid across skin and meat. He was master and student once again, his heart hammering with excitement. Each event he remembered; each stroke, each movement, each tease; anchored by his father's instructions. Within the dreamed remembrance of the torture chamber, he glanced up at the Halthran's mask. He'd steal it later, to keep for himself. His father wouldn't mind, he was sure.

But the mask was not there.

Surprised he glanced around for it. Belatedly, his quasi-lucid self noted that the ripe sweetness of the dream had been tainted somehow. Half cognizant that he was dreaming, and half caught within the action, he looked back down to his work anyway with the intention of proceeding. But the flesh was... was _wrong_. It was the wrong color and tinting; white and pinkish instead of dusky and brown. It was much too young, too healthy. And the muffled whimpers were in the wrong pitch.

He froze, grasping the knife tightly, a whirlwind of unexplained dream-sensation shuttling into him as he became absolutely certain he should not look towards her face. His eyes raised slowly up to his father's. The idiom he _ought_ to have heard was: {Make it count. Kill two birds with one stone.}

Instead the dream apparition of his sire uttered: {One cannot feed the wolf and keep whole the lamb.}

..

* * *

Edwin surge out of his bedroll with a hiss of air. He clawed his way to the side over the uncomfortable stone floor. She wasn't far, and he touched her. Just... just twice. Three times. To make sure she was real; to feel her pulse. Then, still leaning over her, he crossed his arms over his chest and fought hard not to make a sound. His shuddering breaths were already too much noise for his comfort.

Just a dream. Vivid, as always. Corrupted, as it had not been previously. But a dream.

She was... was fine.

He scrambled at his belt, digging out another potion like the one he'd consumed that morning near Viconia. He did not have many left; but he needed it. _Insight_. He downed it in one gulp and then his fingers twitched in memory of the scalpel. He could still smell blood and see skin peeling away. His hand tightened on the empty vial and he rocked slowly. Why was he still shaking?

Clarity. Imoen was an arcane eidetic and almost entirely beyond any other wizard's control. If he slipped and revealed her abilities to the wrong people, she would most likely end up in Thay whether she wanted to go or not; and he would not be able to lay claim to another wizard's property. And even if she entered as a 'guest,' that did not mean Red Wizard patience would last. _How long would they cage her before realizing their new bird could not be bent? How long till they would wonder at what her internals could tell them? _

His thoughts swam down older, less frequently used paths, to unacknowledged and unwelcome memories. _How long would it be till they pulled out their ledgers and talked like horse breeders, picking out the right stud for siring obedient eidetic whelps?_

A scowl of loathing, of hatred dripped across his face. Hatred. Intense, consuming, overwhelming, burning hatred. Hatred for the Halthran, for Dynaheir, for Imoen. Flames wafted briefly around his fingers, up until the moment he unwillingly visualized Imoen's burnt, flayed, and desiccated corpse; and then he had to reach forward to touch her again.

Imoen was fine. It was just a dream. His apprentice was unharmed. Her hair still lay in neat braids from the evening before. He needed to get some sleep.

As he moved slowly to return to his bedroll, he picked up on something in the gloom. His eyes widened in surprise.

Xan and Dynaheir were gone.

..

* * *

"What do you plan to do?" Xan asked her as they walked through the chasms around the destroyed tower of Necromancy. Dynaheir seemed to have a destination in mind, and he followed her unquestioningly.

"This dance must end," Dynaheir answered. "Until now I have blithely ignored the danger he poses as a child might. As if ignoring it could make it go away. Xan, his voice... his voice as he spoke... Excited, coy... No pity, no sense of shame; just pure, joyful cruelty..."

He touched her arm reassuringly. "I support you, Dynaheir. Tell me what you are considering."

"I cannot endure another day with him in this party. Not another minute, not when I know what sick excuse for a soul festers in that monster's breast. I have never met a more grotesque soul. I want _him_ to leave! To expose what he is: a devil; hate and pain in human form." She shuddered. "But forcing _him_ out is currently beyond my means."

Xan considered her. "Then your options number but two. Either you must kill him, or you must flee."

Dynaheir closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. Then she lifted her head. "He kept his vow. He could have killed me today. I won't take lethal action against him; not while we are both in the same party; not unless he strikes first."

"You don't owe him," Xan told her. "Though I value your virtue in upholding the bargain, I still worry it could see you killed. Between you and him, I would unanimously pick whatever option ensured your survival. Even against the interest of fairness. _He_ is the aggressor, and he has shown his colors."

Dynaheir shook her head and was quiet for a moment. "I have been gathering the strength and resources to contact my sisters, as I have felt them reaching out to me for news," she told him at last.

"Your coven? Other Wychlaran?" He tilted his head to the side curiously.

"Yes," Dynaheir nodded. "That is truly why I need your help tonight. I am going to set up a ritual circle with which to contact them... and while I meditate I hope you will watch over me and ensure that I am not assaulted by spiders in my helplessness."

He straightened. "I shall do my best. These caverns seem markedly empty and I am rather certain one would not be quite doomed to carry out a long-distance communication from here."

"Thank you, Xan. You are a dear friend. I shall speak with my sisters and seek their council. Perhaps they can advise me on where to go or what to do next. Their voices will... Will help strengthen me for whatever is to come. They may even be able to help me with my escape."

Xan nodded. "If you plan to flee, Dynaheir, will it be from here? We are deep underground."

"I... I can get out of these ruins safely. I have the spells. Xan, I have been preparing at every turn for some form of betrayal from Edwin, though I don't think I realized how... how _painfully_ he could dig at me." He gently squeezed her arm. She steadied her breath. "I need something to stop him from following me temporarily," Dynaheir explained. "My sisters may be able to cast through me from afar."

The enchanter took this into consideration as they walked. Then he gently squeezed her arm. "Are you alright? Your voice trembles."

She laughed weakly. "I am _afraid_, Xan," she admitted.

"He's _not_. Use his overconfidence against him," the elf told her.

A moment later they came to a barren chamber with enough flat surface to work a magic circle on. Xan stood watch as Dynaheir pulled out spell components and chalk and began to conduct her work. Although he was her guard, Xan could not help but glance frequently down at the sigils. They were unlike anything he had seen outside of druidism, and he realized for the first time that Dynaheir's magic was very much unlike his own.

"I would have wanted more time to study with you," Xan noted wistfully.

"If I and Edwin both leave, then you are the only tutor Imoen has left," the witch told him. "I am glad you seem to have earned her trust lately."

"Dynaheir," Xan wanted to raise a thought, "you could try a terribly clever trick." She looked up at him. "If you leave, Edwin will pursue you and he will cast aside all pretenses and pull out every ace he has. But he has no divination powers. You can rejoin the party after he departs. Even if he has not condemned himself by that time, he often reacts foolishly in the face of repeated frustration."

She considered this. "I will raise this idea with my sisters," she agreed, before bending back to her sigils.

At long last when she was ready, she took up a cross-legged posture in one of the smaller circles ringing the design. Before her she placed a small pile of herbs and bark, which she set fire too and which smoked slowly like incense. With that she closed her eyes and began to chant.

..

* * *

Edwin frowned, his brows narrowing as he reached the exterior wall to the chamber and leaned close to catch the draconic which drifted out. His eyes darted slowly back and forward as he considered what she could be casting. Then he hissed and turned, walking boldly towards the chamber entrance.

As he entered, Xan whirled towards him surprise. The elf had his Moonblade drawn. "Edwin, we wished to be alone," he growled in warning.

The Red Wizard's gaze darted around in surprise and anger. "This is- this is a type of circle magic," he hissed in realization, looking at the blue flames of spirit magic that were rushing around the exterior of the circle. "What the devil is her value for them to spend this many resources to connect with her?" he muttered aloud. Then abruptly he snarled and stepped forward to interrupt her.

Xan stepped between the two of them, holding out his Moonblade threateningly. "Keep _away_ from her, Edwin."

The Thayvian recoiled out of harm's reach. "I've no _time_ for this!" the conjurer hissed, tearing a bag of spell components from his pouch. He was vaguely aware that Xan had started casting just an instant before him. The elf threw up _Protection against Fire_.

Edwin whipped the pouch forward, and Infernal runes spit briefly over the ground. Xan cried out as Edwin conjured a devil directly in the elf's personal space. The Lemure, a roiling wave of flesh with a vaguely humanoid face melted in between tumors and pustuals, reached up to grab at the enchanter. Xan swung out at it with his blade, expecting the arcane fire to keep it at bay; but the creature grabbed hold of his blade and arm both.

"Attack him if attempts to cast; disrupt his spells!" Edwin shouted to it. "And keep him in place!"

The enchanter's eyes widened. _No. _Was it really that easy? That easy to make him helpless!? "Dynaheir!" he shouted in alarm, struggling to free himself from the creature. He tried to get a sense for whether he might be able to charm the devil itself and turn it against Edwin, but to his horror he found a mind so wretched and reaved that it was nigh immune to all mind-affecting magic. "DYNAHEIR!"

Edwin strode boldly past him, moving up towards the meditating Wychlaran. He muttered in draconic, and his right hand lined up with flame. {I do not know what you've tapped into, Rashemi bitch, but I am not waiting to find out,} he hissed, reaching down to grab her slender brown neck. His self preservation instinct told him what any sensible person could have worked out: it was no coincidence that Dynaheir was casting Circle Magic on the same day that he'd confronted her. This spell was on account of him and, no matter how badly this might influence his plans, he had to stop her.

His fingers were inches away from her when her spin stiffened tremendously and she threw back her head, her eyes opening in an otherworldly white. Blue spirit energy spit out all around them like silken flames. Edwin rcoiled in alarm.

{Shit-!} he breathed.

Then Dynaheir lashed out withall the speed of a jungle cat, her long-nailed fingers clawing into his face, her palm connecting solidly with his forehead.

..

* * *

The world was a dark and empty plane but for the spectral glow of the circle magic. It glowed up vibrantly from where there ought to have been chalk. Edwin stood in the center, alone. looking around, he suddenly saw women. Witches. Two, one to each side, wore a painted mask. Before him was Dynaheir.

None of them opened their mouths to speak, but a rush of whispers surged all around them.

_I asked only for a safe escape! _he heard the witch plead.

_You are young. Innocent. This one will never stop hunting you. His hands are as red as his robes._

Animals and plants began appearing in shimmering blue around the women as Edwin turned about in alarm. He was trapped, he recognized, with the same knowing instinct of a dreamer. He was at their mercy. These creatures were spirit guides and guardians from which the witches drew their strength.

_He must be disposed of. _

_Thine own journey must not terminate_

_As one._

_As one, Red Wizard, as one, we take from thee that which thou most values._

_We destroy thee through thine virtue._

Edwin could not truly move, caught in an instant of time and spiritual latticework which he had been a moment too slow to thwart. His eyes widened as blue energy flamed up higher around him. No magic came to his fingertips. There was nothing he could do not protect himself, because he was no witch. Spirit, ley, and natural magic was well beyond his ken.

{No-!} he gasped. {No-! Not-! Not like this!}

He stiffened as all became as bright orbs of cyan flame. Orbs, then claws. They hurtled towards him, and he knew he was looking at his doom. His lips parted, and it was neither Thorasta nor Mulhorandi words that leaked from between them as he dropped his weight and reflexively tried to shield himself.

_"Ükere scüttendh adina an Bayhean, Mháthair, agve Gizlach Ceann!"_

The last thing Dynaheir saw before the spell struck through him and their shared vision broke apart was the outline of a faint and greenish shimmering.

..

* * *

From where Xan was watching, only a few second passed after Dynaheir lashed out to touch the Red Wizard's face. Then the blue energy turned cyan, and there was a bright spark of light. All went still and Edwin was stumbling backwards with wide eyes. He tripped on the hem of his own robes, fell backwards, and then scooted farther from her.

"Dynaheir!" Xan exclaimed, throwing up a _Protection from Evil _on himself through sheer determination. He pushed past the Lemure, grimacing with pain from the creature's claws, and quickly gained the Wychlaran's side.

She looked dazed, and she was shakily regaining her feet. He took her arm to help her up, and then quickly cast a _Protection from Evil _on her to keep the Lemure from switching targets.

"Dynaheir!" He was relieved that she seemed to be okay. "What happened!?" He glanced over at Edwin to see that the conjurer was staring up at them with an openly horrified expression.

The Wychlaran frowned, staggering slightly and trying to make sense of the world. "I... He... He survived?" she realized aloud, looking at Edwin uncertainly.

Xan straightened in surprise. "Dynaheir. What... happened?"

She shook her head. "He walked into the spell's embrace at the crucial moment. My sisters judged him. They wanted to punish him as he deserved, to ensure he could do no more harm. There wasn't space to argue with such powerful wills, or explain their mistaken assumptions..."

"They tried to kill him?" Xan asked, looking confused towards Edwin. The conjurer just sat there in a defensive but largely helpless position, his mouth parted in dismay. Why hadn't he said anything or attacked them?

Dynaheir rubbed her face. "Something... something intervened at the last moment. Not... not a contingency or protection. He spoken in Rashemi just before they struck him, but it made little sense to me."

Xan frowned, reaching out with his senses towards Edwin. "What did they-?" he paused. Then he took in a slow breath of realization. "His mind. Your coven; they struck at his _mind_."

"They struck where he was most confident. Most vain. His intelligence," Dynaheir murmured. "This... this isn't how I wanted things to happen."

The enchanter looked at her slowly. "Is this permanent, Dynaheir?"

The witch looked down at the damaged Red Wizard with pity, shame, and yet the sense that Edwin truly did deserve such a fate as this. "Gelded of all power." She grimaced and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I... Xan, I need to go now."

Xan watched her a moment. "I can help you end this," he told her. "Imoen may fight to help him. But I can charm him and send him walking into the undead. He will not be able to fight me in this state."

She opened her eyes and looked down at Edwin one last time. Then she shook her head.

Xan sighed. "Do we lead him back and explain him to them, then? You need to depart quietly, and quickly."

Dynaheir shuddered. "Leave him to Tymora," she decided. "I will go now with Minsc, but we will not be far from Beregost. If he is somehow mended, I will wait till he is gone. If he merely survives... I suppose either the Song of the Morning or the Beregost inns might be able to use a drudge... No matter what happens, I will be in contact with you."

Xan nodded. Then he tilted his head to the side. "Dynaheir... you mentioned he said something in Rashemi? You said you didn't understand it?"

"I understood the words. He spoke an old Rashemi blessing, like one an old crone might say when she pats thee on the head and tells thee to keep away the evil eye. Literally, it meant... 'Suckled thrice in the name of the Lady, the Mother, and the Hidden One.' Obviously I have no idea why."

..

* * *

DM: "Suddenly! Epic level _Feeblemind_!"  
Edwin: *Overturns miniatures, map, and game table and walks off shrieking in rage*  
Group: *Sits in stunned silence for a moment, character sheets wafting through the air all around them*  
Branwen: "So... Is he going to order the pizza?"


	33. Undeserving

Undeserving

..

* * *

"Jackal?" Imoen called worriedly. Her skin was itchy, and had been since the moment she'd woken up to find all three of the party's wizards missing. _That_ hadn't boded well. Her logical brain would later wonder why she'd bolted out of the protective circle to go find them; but in that waking moment she'd felt a sense of blind panic.

_Someone_ was in trouble.

She looked around the chamber, tilting her hood back. She couldn't see much at first in the darkness, but when she lmoved her light spell around, she realized the floor was covered in chalk runes. Imoen frowned curiously, realizing that she was looking at Dynaheir's handiwork; but if that was the case, then where were any of the wizards?

"Pfft, maybe they all vaporized themselves," she grumbled angrily. Then she shivered involuntarily with worry. "Jackal!" she called. A chirp came from the side and Imoen turned to see the bat fluttering around a wide crevasse in the side of the room. "What is it?" She called in a whisper, hurrying forward to investigate. Jackal hopped down from the rocks to her shoulder, and then stood himself up like a hunting dog with his nose pointed straight down into the crack before them.

"You want me to go down there?" she asked, wondering if the impish creature was trying to get her killed. Then she shrugged and crept found herself looking into a little niche carved downward into the stone, with great overhanging slabs of rock. "Okay, but if he's turned into a zombie I'm going to be very disappointed you didn't warn me," she joked. "Edwin?"

She heard a shifting sound and her eyes widened in surprise. Something _was_ down there. Imoen hesitated for a moment, looking down into the darkness uncertainly. Then she picked up a rock, enchanted it with a light spell, and tossed it gently into the niche. It bounced once, twice, and then its light fell over a very surprised Red Wizard, who lifted an arm reflexively to shield his face from the brighteness.

Imoen jumped with incredulity. "Edwin?" she asked, glancing at Jackal and then back to the wizard. The Thayvian winced, looking up at her from past his arm. He was sitting down in the niche under a low overhanging rock, and he had been hugging his knees to his chest. Everything about his body posture suggested that he was cowering, and she wondered if he had been hit by some kind of _Fear_ spell.

"Edwin, what's wrong!?" she asked in surprise, negotiating the ledge down into the crevasse as quickly as she could.

{Broke,} she heard. Imoen paused, twisting her head back to look at him. Her brows furrowed when she realized he was quivvering. {Edwin...} she began slowly, {what's wrong...?}

The Red Wizard shifted nervously, barely meeting her eye for more than an instant. He fidgeted about a long moment before hugging his knees with both arms again. {Sparkles gone,} he confessed in a dazed mumble.

Imoen gaped. Then an incredibly inappropriate laugh escaped her throat and she slid quickly down to his level and hopped swiftly up beside him. He recoiled briefly from her rapid approach, but scooted to face her as she knelt. {Oh... _Edwin_,} she laughed piteously. {What did you _do_?}

He scowled in frustration at her tone, looking away from her and curling further into himself.

{Oh come on, don't look at me like that,} she laughed. {I had a horrible nightmare and I thought something might have happened to you!}

He stared at her.

{Okay... something even worse,} she admitted. This was probably quite terrible from his perspective. {Do you know how long it's going to last?}

The Red Wizard furrowed his brow in frustration again, and Imoen realized his mental state might be worse than she'd initially realized.

{Edwin, do you know who I am?} she asked him suddenly.

He frowned up at her. Imoen blew out a thoughtful stream of air.

{Edwin, what my name?} she tried again.

The wizard shifted slightly, considering the question very carefully. Then he looked back up at her. {Friend?} he mumbled hopefully.

Imoen blinked at him quietly a moment. He looked miserable. On closer inspection, his eyes were reddened and he had obviously been crying. She shook her head and then she shuffled forward to touch him, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. {You poor thing} she gushed soothingly. {Come here, come here, I'm sorry for laughing.}

Edwin initially recoiled uncomfortably but then, when he seemed to register she was trying to hug him, he abruptly went still and seemed to hesitate. A moment later he squirmed into a sloppy kneeling position. Then he not only permitted her to hug him, but lunged forward to grab hold of her and slumped trembling into her hold.

Imoen was a little surprised to be received so warmly. {I have got you,} she reassured him. She was starting to get a sense for the breadth of his condition, and was modifying her speech to suit him. {No worry, no worry, I got you.}

The Red Wizard hugged her a little more tightly. "_Kwefai_," he sighed into her shoulder, his most frequently used appellation coming to him at last.

{Yes,} she agreed and then promised him: {No worry, Monkey help.} Then Imoen rubbed his back soothingly, trying not to smile when she thought about how Edwin would absolutely _kill_ her if he remembered this later. {We move now, okay? Bad things in dark.}

He pulled back a little from her, nodding rapidly in understanding. Whatever he'd done to himself, it hadn't seem to effect his ability to recognize danger. Imoen stood up, getting a hand under each of his arms to help him to his feet. Once he was standing he followed her very closely. When she climbed up the crevasse, she did so very slowly. He slipped once or twice but managed to get most of the way up without help.

Unfortunately, Edwin was heavier than her and neither he nor Imoen was particularly strong. At the top of the climb she tugged at his shoulder for awhile before it became clear he was going to end up falling. She ended up sipping on an expensive strength potion and then easily grabbed him under the arms and hauled him out of the hole.

When he was again standing, Edwin immediately grabbed on to the fabric of her sleeve, and followed her closely as she started back for the group.

* * *

When they reached the camp, they found Xan had returned some time ago. He looked incredibly upset and was walking around the borders of the camp anxiously. When he saw her, he gave a great sigh of relief.

"Oh, you're _alive_," he groaned thankfully, coming up to meet the both of them.

Edwin hissed audibly, grabbing tightly on to Imoen's shoulder and coming up close behind her. He glared unhappily at Xan.

Xan grimaced. "I see you've already found the Thayvian."

"Yeahhh..." Imoen drawled. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this... now would you, Xan?"

The elf hesitated, looking at the bat on Imoen's head. "In... indirectly," he admitted. "I was physically present." Jackal hissed.

"I see. And do you have anything else to share with the class?" she asked him, planting her hands on her hips. "Perhaps why you and Dyn abandoned his disabled ass alone in the dark in an undead infested ruins?"

Xan rubbed his brow, not certain how to explain. He'd expected to have many more hours to figure out how exactly to word this. "If Dynaheir had permitted me, I would have killed him."

Jackal shrieked. Imoen's jaw dropped. She stared at her friend in disbelief for a moment. Then she glanced back at her _other_ friend. Edwin was obviously in no condition to address these comments, but she realized he was quivering again and his brows were drawn in helpless frustration. Xan lifted his eyes to her as she turned quickly back to the elf.

"He and Dynaheir had an altercation earlier today, and he left her scared for her life. She and I went out to contact her coven, so she could seek advice and we could formulate a plan for how she'd safely leave the party. But Edwin followed us. He momentarily engaged me with a devil and then went straight for Dynaheir while she was meditating."

"What- what _happened_?" Imoen squeaked. "Where is Dynaheir, is she alright?!"

"She's fine," Xan reassured the girl. "Dynaheir's spell reached its peak just in time, and apparently her coven wasn't happy with Edwin. When we took stock of what had happened to him, Dynaheir lamented it wasn't what she'd wanted, but that it was nevertheless her window to escape. She and Minsc left twenty minutes ago."

"Wait, what? From here?!" Imoen looked around rapidly for either Rashemi, but there was no sign of them.

"Dynaheir was confident she had prepared adequately for just such a departure."

"They're- they're _gone_?" Imoen protested. "But-!" She gaped for a moment, lost for words. Then she closed her mouth and stared quietly for a long moment. She looked disappointed in everyone. "When will _this _wear off?" she asked at last, jerking her thumb back at Edwin.

Xan took in a slow breath. "There is nothing to wear off. He is not under an enchantment; this was genuine damage."

Imoen's disappointed expression did not improve. "And so you asked to kill him and then decided to leave him down there?"

"He did not deserve my help after assaulting my friend," Xan told her.

Imoen shook her head, and glanced to where the Red Wizard was wringing her arm nervously with both hands. He was hugging low and close to her, and the expression on his face was akin to pain. "So help me Xan, but I feel like socking you in the kidney right now. To be fair, I feel like socking Edwin in both kidneys, but the terrified way he's huddled behind my shoulder is really making me feel bad for him..."

He sighed. "I realize how you must feel and I am sorry. But for now, Dynaheir is gone and he is helpless. Let us... let us discuss this further in the morning when the others are awake. We all need our rest one one way or another, and Aegis is going to have to decide how to proceed with our sudden losses."

Imoen grimaced. "Don't come near Edwin," she warned the elf. "Stay on _your_ side of the camp and keep your enchantments to yourself." Jackal huffed in agreement.

Xan didn't blame her for being upset; she didn't know enough of the situation yet. Once he had a chance to fully explain, he felt confident Imoen would appreciate how much restraint they _had_ shown. If they were lucky, perhaps they could finally convince her the Thayvian was unworthy of her protection.

"I promise not to harm him," Xan told her. "For what it is worth, I truly had the best of intentions." He bowed out of the conversation.

Imoen scowled after him, but Xan turned about and went to get some rest. After a short moment she looked at Edwin. The Thayvian blew out a breath he'd been holding and then took a moment to breath heavily, releasing her shoulder and turning away. His arms were shaking. {Edwin, you okay?} she asked him.

He looked at her quickly and hesitated, his forehead creasing as he tried to keep track of his own thoughts. A grimace drew his mouth thin, and it occurred to her that he might be trying to piece together a respectable question. Sadly, one was quite beyond him at present. {Sparkles?} he breathed at last, looking tired and defeated.

She shook her head and turned to take her evil wizard gently by the arm. {Not today,} she told him. {Sleep time now, though.}

His eyes widened and he suddenly looked frightened. {Not forget?} he mumbled helplessly.

She pat his shoulder reassuringly. {Kwefai help you. Not forget.}

Edwin regarded her a moment with a drawn frown on his face. Then his eyes closed as he he inhaled deeply and wiped his face with a bit of his sleeve. {Okay,} he mumbled, mentally exhausted. He was docile as she tugged him over to their bedrolls. He seemed to have just enough sense left to realize he ought to take his shoes off, but not enough to figure out how to do so.

Imoen helped just a bit in getting him under the blankets and tucking them in around him. Then she dragged up her bedroll beside his. {Sleep-sleep now. Okay?} she asked as he fussed uncomfortably. He paused at the sound of her voice and then gave a discouraged sigh.

{Broke,} he said, and his voice cracked. He was so absolutely pathetic that Imoen had to remind herself that she was still talking to Edwin; That nothing she'd witnessed had come from Edwin's estranged and highly emotional cousin but from _Edwin._

Still, Imoen couldn't help herself. She leaned over and placed a reassuring kiss on his temple. {I won't let anything happen to you,} she promised him. {No bad stuff.} He looked up at her and did not seem incredibly reassured. After a moment he just tried to make himself comfortable again, turning onto his side.

Imoen got herself into bed, settling down and pulling the blankets up to her chest. After a moment she decided to see if some shreds of the proud peacock were still in there, and she reached over to gently pet his shoulder. He twitched and wormed about to face her. {A broke dragon is _still_ a dragon,} she told him, placing Jackal on his arm to keep watch over him.

The incapacitated wizard was quiet a moment, looking slightly surprised. Then with an expression of suffering, he reached over and grasped her arm, and pushed his face into her shoulder. He shook violently. Surprised, Imoen turned fully towards him and put both arms around his back. {Hey... hey...}

* * *

"I have only one question," Aegis said at last.

Xan blinked in surprise, and most of the group was surprised that she only had _one_. They waited patiently for her to form it. Edwin, who was quiet and not very responsive, was studying the stones of the floor.

"Why..." Aegis began, "why didn't it occur to either of you two _brilliant_ wizards that maybe Dynaheir should just come and talk with me, and we could put Edwin under watch and organize Dynaheir's departure _as a team_?"

The group was silent for a moment.

"I mean, I know some of you still remember how well that worked with Montaron... but given that Xzar, Jaheira, and Khalid departed on friendly terms and Edwin was consistently upholding his vow through this whole thing..." She shook her head.

An awkward pause followed.

"Well," Aegis sighed. "This is crazy, but it's done now. I'm short two wizards and a beserker, right before a major battle and with a bandit camp awaiting us. And- no offense to Xan- they were the only two wizards capable of making magic that goes 'boom.'"

"So what do we do now?" Viconia asked, taking incredible pleasure in Edwin's ridiculous condition. "Aside from slit the Thayvian's throat and loot his robes, of course. Do we push forward?"

Imoen scowled, petting Jackal to settle him down and looked to Aegis. "We need to get Edwin to Kelddath at the Song of the Morning," she told her sister.

"I don't see the point," Viconia disagreed. "If we restore him to normal, he will simply depart in search of Dynaheir. It would be a waste of funds. Furthermore, he broke party rules against infighting"

Branwen nodded "According to Xan, Edwin did strike first. Maybe we should just leave the Thayvian the way he is. Though there'll be no slittin' his throat, Viccy."

Imoen gave a negative wave of her hand. "Well I'm taking him once we gain the surface, and that's final. Edwin can't even defend his actions right now, and Dynaheir _fled_! If money's the issue then don't worry, Edwin and I have our own purses and I'll help if he comes up short."

Xan sighed. "Imoen, I really must advise that we cannot derail our entire-"

"You be quiet, you left him down there to die!" Imoen pouted, because anyone confronted with a terrified friend and no hard evidence was bound to be protective at first.

Aegis sighed, looking to the rest of the group. "Give us a moment," she said, and then gestured to the elf and the thief and pointed for them to join her down a side hall. The two did so, Imoen leading a docile Edwin by the hand.

* * *

"Alright Xan. What _really_ happened?" Aegis growled.

"He truly did assault Dynaheir, both mentally and later magically. Originally she was paralyzed, and he ran his hands over her and told her at length and in detail a story about flaying a Wychlaran alive," Xan told them.

Imoen frowned. "Wait. You're telling my Dynaheir was doing some strange ritual in the middle of the night after Edwin had thrown down bait and had every reason to expect an attack? A strange ritual which just _happened_ to allow her entire coven to cast magic on him?"

Xan was still for a moment, surprised that Imoen was not more offended. Then again, she had not heard the story word for word as he had.. "She intended to ask her people for advice in temporarily disabling him-"

Imoen scowled. "So, in reality, Dynaheir was hitting first," she told him.

"No- Dynaheir- she did not intend to hurt him permanently-!" Xan protested. "Imoen, _why_ are you taking his side?"

"You left him alone to die!" Imoen protested, and Xan sighed at her undaunted innocence. "And thanks to you and Dyn, he can't currently take his own side!"_  
_

"He did not deserve my help after assaulting my friend," Xan told her, "I would have protected you _and_ her more permanently had she not stayed my hand. He is _sick, _Imoen. Darker slime than you can imagine lies beneath that bitter exterior."

"Well, last time I checked he's still _my_ friend," Imoen groused, wrapping an arm around the Thayvian's. Edwin blinked, looking stupidly down at her. By all appearances, he seemed to have give up fighting his condition. "And up until this moment, I was pretty sure _you_ were my friend too. So this leaves me in a bit of a mood."

Xan was quiet for a moment. "I knew this would cost me your affection, but I accepted the consequences. He doesn't deserve your loyalty," the elf admitted to her. "He has never and will never do anything to deserve it."

"Well he's _teaching_ me-!" she scowled.

"_That_ is _not_ altruism," Xan told her. "He considers you to be his property, and he is happy to indulge you if it gets him what he wants. Tell me, has he invited you to Thay?"

Imoen blinked. Aegis glanced to her sister in surprise. Jackal hissed and flapped his wings in irritation. Edwin seemed barely lucid, but a little bit of awareness came back at the mention of his homeland.

Xan shook his head. "Whatever happens, Imoen, never take that offer. The only way you will ever leave again will be in his image. Once all the cards are in his hand, that mouse trap will swing shut. He will mold you into the wizard he desires or, failing that, he will extract any consolation value he can get from your enslavement. It has happened to many others before you."

The purple thief grimaced and then sighed, her head now filled with conflicting thoughts. "Look... just... you're getting off topic, and the topic is: I would _never_ abandon him to die alone in the dark," she maintained. "And I'm angry at you."

"Imoen, People don't change in the face of softness, innocence, or a warm heart," Xan told her. "Not when they are already sure of themselves and secure their own darkness. You can do nothing to make a person act out of accordance with themselves. When you choose to endure another person's sins but can do nothing to change the future, perseverance becomes a continuous state of martyrdom that never accomplishes anything. " He shook his head. "You can't fix men who won't acknowledge they are broken. Don't give him your loyalty."

"The _hell_ Xan!" Imoen shouted. "I am not trying to fix the entire cosmos! I'm freaking tell you the next time you decide to go behind my back and kill my friend to protect me, you are going to wake up nude and tied to a Festhall stripper pole!"

The elf recoiled shock, not sure where this was coming from. Aegis flinched.

Imoen kept shouting: "Your weird emotional masochism doesn't make it okay to take people away from _me_! And now I can't even get his side of the story from him! No- no, you don't come _near_ him until I've figured out what I think about all this. Don't you _dare_!"

"Okayyy," so that's the end of _this_ fight," Aegis interrupted, pushing the elf and thief further back from each other. "Look. Both of you. Dynaheir is a good woman and Edwin's a very nasty man. My gut tells me Dynaheir's probably in the right and Edwin's an asshole. And Immy, you _know_ that's most likely the truth."

The thief huffed. "I'm still not-"

"-going to abandon the cranky bastard to the undead," Aegis agreed. "Neither will I, Imoen. Edwin was always careful to keep within the letter of his vow, and that at least deserves some protection in exchange. Don't forget I've looked after necromancers, thieves, and drow for awhile now."

Xan wanted to protest, but Aegis lifted her hands. To be honest, he was still a little unsettled by mention of nudity and poles.

Aegis continued diplomatically: "We'll talk more when we get to the surface. Right now, Imoen, just keep close tabs on Edwin and make sure he doesn't get knocked off any cliffs by party members who hate him. And Xan? Don't touch him. People like Viconia need to know they're safe in this party. Fair? Both of you?"

Imoen crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "Fair," she grumbled.

As they headed back to the group, Edwin tapped her on the shoulder. _"Kwefai msa'hhe Thae," _he told her firmly and Imoen blinked at him in surprise.

_"M-sa'hhe?" _she stressed to make sure she had heard the negation properly.

_"Msa'hhe," _he agreed quietly, looking more aware than she'd seen him all morning. _"Ne'hha."_

* * *

When they returned to the group, the topic was strategy.

"We still haven't gotten the _History of the Darkness_," Aegis noted. "But we probably have spoils enough to make this delve monetarily successful. Even if it wrecked havoc on group composition."

Xan considered this. "Based on what I've seen of the magic embedded around these towers, the Seals we collected should be enough to deal with the wraiths. We can still try and make a push for the book. "

"I don't want to be greedy," Aegis noted. "We're missing some pretty important people."

"Not our most important," Kagain pointed out. "We gots the clerics still. We can do it."

"I second the 'we can probably do it' idea," Imoen pointed out. "Even though I want to head out right after." She hadn't yet eaten breakfast, and she headed over to her pack to pick out some food. She offered Edwin a can of preserved apricots. A few moments later the annoyed wizard handed them right back.

"Kwefai," he mumbled bitterly, as there was still enough Edwin left within him to recognize that he was being thwarted by a jar, and to resent it.

She looked from him to the jar. Then she took his hand, placed it on the lid, and made a motion to twist. He blinked dumbly at her for a moment before suddenly obeying. When the lid twisted off and the jar opened, the look of delight and relief on his face was so comical that Imoen had to cover her mouth lest she laugh aloud. That jar became his favorite object in the world for the next few minutes, and he ate hungrily.

She and Jackal had to help him clean off all the apricot juice afterwards, but at least he had felt satisfied with his capabilities for a brief moment.

{Edwin,} she complained, {no matter how much you deserve to be stuck like this, we better find a cure soon. I have no idea whether I'm supposed to be furious as you, and your helplessness is totally interfering with my judgement-call-maker.}

{Sparklies,}he agreed in frustration, trying to get the upside down lid back on the apricots without much success. It took him several tries before turning the lid over and then he turned it the incorrect direction twice before finally managing to screw it on. The huge, relieved sigh he gave nearly put Imoen to giggles again. Then he stared at the jar, trying to figure out what he'd intended to do with it once it was closed. He gave Imoen a plaintive frown, realizing he had become lost and needed assistance. He was not at all impressed when she finally did break down laughing.

* * *

_When Khelben saw him he scarcely recognized him. Cowled and haggard, with bloodshot eyes rimmed in dark circles, Gorion was but a terrifying shade of himself. The sight of him wiped the smile off the archmagus' face._

_"Mystra's Glory, what's happened?" Blackstaff muttered in surprise, coming forward to put his arm around the wretched looking man. "Come-"_

_Gorion shied from his touch like a leper. "Don't!" he pleaded, and his voice was a raw gasp. Then Khelbed realized what sort of tattered bundle Gorion had clutched to his chest, because it began crying._

_Khelben looked to the child in surprise as the aasimar began to rock it. "Is that one of them?" the archmagi asked. _

_Gorion lifted his icy gaze again. "I need... I need your help," he begged. "And your promise."_

_"My promise? Whatever you've need of, my friend. Let's get to the tower."_

_"No!" Gorion exclaimed. Khelben paused. "No. No, first, promise me. Promise me no matter what you believe or what I tell you, you will _never_ harm the child I am carrying or knowingly permit her to be harmed."_

_"Gorion!"_

_The younger magus stepped back, shaking his head. "Promise me or I will turn around and you will not see me again, Khelben. By all that is holy, I swear-"_

_"I promise, Gorion," the archmagus interjected. "Do you hear me? I promise you, Bhaalspawn or otherwise, that babe you are carrying is safe in my home, and from both me and mine."_

_The aasimar stared for a moment, as if registering the words took him much time. Then he trembled, sagging slightly, and Khelben had to offer his arm to help him along. _

* * *

_They got Gorion inside and beside a fire, with wine and a warm plate of food available. The aasimar had permitted the tower's unseen servants to take his cloak and pack, but he did not relinquish the bundle in his arms for even a moment. He ate bread and drank thirstily with but one hand. _

_Then the infant cried again and he quickly pulled a preserved skin of milk from his belt, offering it to her. She whined and muttered into the cloth teat for a moment before seizing it and nursing contently. _

_"Are you going to tell me what's happened?" Khelben asked, taking a seat. "You disappeared. You were presumed dead... My divinations yielded nothing, so the best I could hope for was that you were utilizing Non Detection."_

_"I need a healer who can perform a restoration," the aasimar murmured. "Who will be as discrete as you."_

_Khelben sighed. "Do you not even have any idea where to start telling me what happened?"_

_Gorion looked up at him. "I fell," the young wizard told him. "I fell, and Bhaal claimed me as a Deathstalker."_

_The archmagi scoffed. "What? You are no devote of Bhaal's."_

_"I stood there, face to face with him. He looked into my eyes and explained how everything I had done had been his will."_

_Khelben scowled. "You are under some charm or illusion-" he muttered, starting to stand._

_"No. I've just never told you the truth before now. Lullorin was Kazgorath."_

_The older magus froze. He glanced from the child and then back to Gorion's face. "What!?"_

_"The daggers we collected, she hid for future use of the Bhaalspawn. Our son... my son... that was the dagger I returned to you on the day I told you she'd died."_

_"Gorion," the archmage murmured in horror, pity, and alarm, standing up and coming over to his old friend. "That should not be possible..." Gorion shrunk, coddling the baby to his breast._

_"There was a precedent. I did not tell you the truth about my fight with the Slayer, either. The Slayer killed Chai. It gave me her soul back, and I... I paid for it. The priestess had called it through to create a Bhaalspawn. It chose to do so; but she was already dead. So it took feminine form."_

_Khelben stared at him as if watching a steadily worsening disaster that he found himself incapable of helping in any way._

_"It had it's way with me. I assumed that was the full payment, as it nearly killed me and I barely escaped with my life. But it had also established a link to Chai so that it could find me again. Kazgorath used her to track me, and when you helped heal me he took the form of Lullorin in a bet that you'd send me to deal with the Bhaalspawn. From Neverwinter to Sembia, every raid was preplanned by Bhaal himself as a calculated sacrifice."_

_"Gods," Blackstaff muttered in dismay. "I... I will summon the healer you need, and have a bath and fresh clothes prepared. You... you need to rest, Gorion. This goes so far beyond what should have happened..." _

_"I became a fanatic," the aasimar told him. "I killed in anger. In pain and exhaustion, and in hate, hate for them, hate for_ him_, I killed them._"

_"Easy, Rion. We will... we will make sense of this somehow," Khelben told him. Then he began to chant, summoning up the spells he'd need to send out messages._

_Gorion shook his head. "I killed both of my own children. I murdered my infant children. I could have brought one back, I could have brought one back and tried and prayed and... How can death possibly weaken Death?"_

_Khelben finished casting and then looked at Gorion, lost for words. It was perhaps a sign he had spent too much time alone in his tower or around Elminster that one of the prominent thoughts going through his mind was to marvel how no one in an organization rife with elves and bards had noticed a god could swing both ways. It had never occurred to any of them that Bhaal would even take female form._

_ What order do I say this, how do I speak of, I-" the aasimar began to mutter feebly but then he was abruptly interrupted by the baby whimpering loudly. He hushed her soothingly. "It's okay... It will be okay... I know you are in pain."_

_Khelben looked back to the child. "If she isn't yours, where is she from?" he asked slowly._

_Gorion quivered. Then, slowly, he reached out and layed out a shred of fabric marked with the Holy Symbol of Oghma. "I prayed. I prayed for help. I could not hear Mystra. The dagger I had enchanted for her... Bhaal manipulated it. I could scarcely tell what was real and what was not and then Chai... _

_"Chai told me her theory the Slayer had embedded something in her. And she convinced me... she convinced me to let her go. I begged, telling her how foolish it sounded to kill something so precious to me in order to escape Death himself. __But she kept talking to me, promising me she forgave me even if she was wrong. I killed her. I killed my infant children. I couldn't see for the tears. My mind was cluttered and in turmoil. I prayed for help, but I wasn't even sure I'd recognize good from evil when I saw it._

_"Oghma heard me. He led me to... to this one. This swaddling, I assume it was her mother's. She would have been one of his priests or monks. Oghma heard me. Led me. So I am Oghma's."_

_Khelben nodded. "She is not yours, then."_

_Ice blue eyes flew up to him. "She is now," the aasimar told him, all tremors, all fear, suddenly gone from his voice. "She is my _child_. From that day forward, she will always be my child."_


	34. Solutions

In which our intrepid adventurers encounter interface design, and use logical reasoning to solve problems!

...

* * *

Logical Solutions

...

* * *

It seemed strange to Imoen that only two days ago, when they had first learned about these 'Headmaster Seals,' Edwin, Dynaheir and Xan had been getting along fairly well with one another. They had discussed the Seals and the best way to implement them, and each offered every bit of strategic insight which came to them.

Now that Imoen and Xan were the only ones left to carry out the original plan, Aegis had a bit of a problem: Imoen and Xan were not currently getting along As they were two of the smallest and most adorable people in the group, it was almost comical to watch them throw stink eyes at each other. They both had tremendously transformative frowns.

Branwen, for instance, had concluded that Xan's ears really were slightly variable; they would lose tensile strength and lay back a few degrees when he was upset. The change was small, but sufficient to lower the tips at least a whole inch. This combined with his suddenly withdrawn, taciturn, and defensive posture; and with a perpetually frustrated sneer and slightly narrowed brows; produced an appearance of glaringly obvious displeasure. Imoen's dry quips, wrinkled forehead, and disapproving scowl were equally hard to miss.

Viconia took perverse pleasure in their argument, which appeared to be driving their relationship apart despite the fact that it wasn't really even _their_ argument. From her point of view, Xan was standing in for Dynaheir and Imoen was standing in for Edwin; the two had been sabotaged by their own friends' infighting.

Edwin followed dazedly with his hand in Imoen's. He did notice that Shar-Teel was glancing back at him. When he met eyes with her she broke down snickering. Struck by the fact that she was mocking him, Edwin scowled bitterly and hovered closer to Imoen. The large woman grinned and then her gaze drifted to IMoen and Xan.

"Are you two having a fight?" Shar-Teel purred laughingly; not that any 'purr' of Shar-Teel's was ever pleasant to the ears. "And here I thought you flimsy gossips were twins or something. Miss your red pig's loud-mouthed, chauvinistic bluster that bad, eh girl?"

Imoen and Xan glanced at one another with matching glowers. "Well," Imoen began patiently, "I wouldn't say our relationship is completely..."

"... doomed..." Xan supplied, because at least they could agree that Shar-Teel was on neither of their sides.

"... but let's just say if he wakes up with pink hair, you know who done it," Imoen sniffed.

The elf sneered but, as this was a significant upgrade from being left in a Festhall, his posture straightened a little.

Shar-Teel rolled her eyes. "You little snots should just duke it out like anyone sane. Winner gets their way."

Imoen looked horrified. "I can't punch Xan! What if I hurt him!? What if I lose because I'm not willing to hurt him!?"

Shar-Teel lifted a brow. "Didn't you _already_ threaten him or something?"

"What? Well yes, but its significantly harder to get my way by complaining that he's on the verge of driving me further into a morally unwholesome and self-destructive lifestyle that will culminate with me covering an entire city in burning dog poo, robbing four gods of their holy weapons, sleeping with every wizard of interest from here to Mulhorand- including all the liches- and inevitably getting eaten by a Copper Dragon who's convinced I've stolen his sense of humor."

Xan winced. "You'd be surprised," he said in a strangled voice.

"You are boths _idiots_," the fightress snarled in irritation and walked ahead to get away from them.

Imoen and Xan glanced at each other. The elf spoke first: "I do not support the murder of my friends, or support people who consistently threaten it!"

"Neither do I, Mr. Vigilante Executioner," the pink one accused angrily.

"You-! Devil's advocate!" the violet one accused equally angrily.

"Control Freak!" she charged.

"Anarchist!" he claimed.

"Paladin!" Imoen accused at the same time as Xan's: "Ingenue!" Then both gasped and shouted an identically incensed: "You take that back!"

* * *

When they had entered the room over the wraiths, Aegis gestured for everyone to stop walking; then she turned to her wizard and her sister. "Alright Bubbles and Gloomy, how is this going to play out with the Seals?"

Imoen stuck out her tongue at Xan and then stepped forward, pulling out the Seals. "So here's the deal. No one really knows how these work, how much juice they have left, how they throw out their spells, or how much control the user gets. But we at least know how to activate them, and we've collected the Seals for Abjuration, Transmutation, Divination, and Invocation."

"So how do we not accidentally explode ourselves?" Aegis queried.

"And not instigating an earthquake if the towers try raining lightening outward where, ya know, an enemy army might come from," Kagain muttered.

Xan stepped forward. "We are going to activate Divination first," he explained. "It is relatively harmless magic. We will see how the Divination Seal works and try to use its magic to get a better sense for how the other Seals might function. This will also tell us whether or not we can activate the Invocation Seal. Unfortunately, Invocation is my forbidden school... So either Imoen must be able to activate it, or we will have no 'lightning.'"

...

* * *

There was a shimmering about Xan as he activated the Divination Seal. Then, with a rush, magical illusions spread out all around them. They could see a model of the Ulcaster School of magic, with all the towers highlighted against the earth. Sprinkled all over the ruin map were countless specs highlighted in red or yellow. In addition to the map itself, there were numerous small circular illusions filled with sigils and arcane diagrams.

"What on _Faerun_?" the enchanter murmured, reaching out fascinated to touch the model. It shifted and expanded in size as his hand passed through it. In this enhanced view, they could see more specific features of the school, and the red and yellow 'dots' now resembled creatures.

With a touch of Xan's finger, one of the creatures appeared in a nearby cloud of illusion. It was a ghoul, they could see, and climbing innocently about the caverns quite some distance from them.

A moment of reverent silence passed in which Xan, Imoen, and Edwin said nothing. The latter was twisting about and poking at some of the shimmering shapes as they drifted past. He broke the silence with a curious, {Sparkles?}

"Oh sweet Oghma," Imoen breathed.

"This..." Xan hesitated. "This is... is the _best thing ever_," he murmured slowly, an expression of joyous wonder creeping over his face. He gestured to a sigil and then at the ghoul, applying a detect evil remotely. The creature, of course, glowed brightly with evil taint.

Imoen gasped and botled forward, pouncing on the elf's shoulder and looking up at the illusions with wonder. "You're smiling!" she squealed. "You're actually smiling! Ha! This is so cool! Ooh, ooh! Look at that one! Look, it would activate true seeing!"

"I want the enchantment one!" Xan begged, excitedly rotating the model of the fortress and starting to apply different effects. "Oh please, one day, we must return here and dig out the enchantment one!"

"Oh dear gawds, Xan, are you highlighting friend from foe right now!?"

"The 'friends' are turning green!" he gushed happily. "Who _built_ this!? Can you not think of all the applications this could have!? This must be tied in with the other Sigils so that they could defend the school in tandem!"

Imoen and Xan grinned at each other. Then they paused uncertainly, an idea occurring to each of them simultaneously. Slowly, they both turned their gazes to Edwin, who was quite distracted by all the sparkles.

"This is a good day for him to be stupid," Imoen realized. "I am totally thinking of another place that's ruled over by an elite mage for each school of magic, and which doesn't need help being any more totalitarian than it already is..."

"Well," Xan said slowly, "This is putting some strain on me to maintain. I also get the sensation these take considerable time or effort to recharge and are specifically tools for emergencies. Even so, perhaps we should let Thalantyr 'borrow' them when we are done here so they do not fall into the wrong hands."

"I second this plan," Imoen agreed. "Do you think I will be able to use the invocation one?"

Xan hesitated. "I wish we had Dynaheir," he sighed after a long moment of indecision.

"Yeah," Imoen agreed sadly. "Me too." Xan glanced at her in surprise.

* * *

Aegis had been waiting for them to finish whilst Shar-Teel, Branwen, and Kagain played at who could hit what with a thrown stone. Viconia was trying to convince Ajantis to join in, but he had a sneaking suspicion this was only so that she and Shar-Teel could mock him, so he refused. He was starting to realize Viconia had a strange habit of sabotaging her own attempts at friendship.

Seeing that Imoen and Xan appeared to be done, Aegis approached thief and wizard. The former was sitting exhausted on the ground, breathing heavily from her difficulty in controlling the Invocation Seal. "What news have you got for me?" she asked as Ajantis and Viconia followed her to listen in.

"We have magical protections and augmentations set to come live in approximately thirty minutes," Xan explained. "And we were able to hit the wraiths preemptively with a barrage of magic missiles. The Divination Seal will nullify their ethereal protection, and I predict that the battle will go overwhelmingly in our favor. My only caution is that wraiths are able to suck life energy from anyone they touch. If we are not careful, we could become overwhelmed as each drain leaves us more susceptible to the next."

"So your advice is to go all-out and kill everything as fast as we possibly can?" Aegis asked.

"Absolutely," the enchanter answered. "And if you _can_, we should try and lure some of them up here to fight them in separate groups, just to be safe."

The ranger nodded. "Understood. Um, before we head down to size up what we're up against, Imoen, I had a thought. I wanted to bring it up in case it's useful. The week after we left Candlekeep, I was _supposed_ to have had a history test which Parda gracefully excused me from."

Imoen blinked. "Yeah? And?"

"Well... I often took _Potions of the Scholar _for difficult studies, remember? I thought I had some of them on me the night we left. Is this ringing any bells?"

The thief, who tended to nick and monopolize the party's entire collection of wands, potions, and other consumables, perked up. Then she grabbed a potion bag from her belt and began rummaging rapidly through it. After a moment she pulled out a slender, mercury-colored vial.

"Is this one?" Imoen asked eagerly, because she already knew what the plan must be.

"I'm not sure," Aegis confessed. "It's the right color."

"What is a_ Potion of the Scholar_?" Xan asked, coming up to have a look. All enmity between him and Imoen seemed to have faded, at least temporarily.

"Something you've never heard of 'cause you're already a wizard!" Imoen laughed, standing up and examining the vial for any identifying marks. "Gorion made em for Aegis to help her study easier. Otherwise, she reads really slowly."

Xan lifted a brow, surprised he had not heard of such a thing; remarkably, it was Ajantis who seemed to know what they were talking about, because he said: "I have seen such potions before. They were purchased by unscrupulous peers descended from wealthy families, and were a means of cheating in one's studies."

"Well," Aegis laughed, "there's a world of difference in being raised by a wizard than in being raised by knights, I guess. Xan, they're like Potions of Genius for dumb people. They bloom your mind up to some set benchmark, making them really useful for me and absolutely useless to Immy. But I was thinking, Imoen, do you think you could use them to temporarily patch our broken wizard?"

"This is a Gorion-made potion, sure is," she told Aegis with a grin. "Worth a shot! Can I give it to him now, or do I have to wait till after the battle?"

Xan lifted a brow and frowned. "If it _is_ able to restore Edwin, even temporarily, he is not going to be in a very good mood. Our abjurations will activate whether we are ready or not, and Edwin does have a way of provoking people. Perhaps we should wait until we are some place safer, where an argument won't cause any problems..."

Aegis considered the question and then looked to Imoen. "Is he going to be able to cast?"

"Should be," Imoen nodded.

"Give it to him," Aegis instructed. "You three have fifteen minutes to argue about who did what to whom and why; then we need to get downstairs and fight. So whatever you do, do not provoke this into a full-blown fight. Say what you need to say, reassure him, and get that spellbook into his hands. Imoen, he's your responsibility. The last thing I need is Edwin throwing a fire-themed temper tantrum on the party."

Viconia scoffed. "He knows we are his only way to the surface. He won't be so foolish."

"Men do stupid things when they feel cornered," Aegis dismissed. "And you of all people should know it's not fun to have your head tampered with."

...

* * *

{Edwin,} Imoen began, turning about.

The Thayvian was right behind her, and he was eyeing most of the other party members distrustfully. At her attention, however, he lost focus and turned a docile gaze onto her. {Have found... me sparkles?} he asked her hopefully, making her wonder if Edwin could follow the gist of topics better than they realized. Then again, perhaps this was just one more supplication in a long line of asking for sparkles.

{Maybe!} she said excitedly, picking up one of his hands and carefully curling his fingers about the vial. {Drink this,} she instructed.

The Red Wizard frowned, taking the unfamiliar object uncertainly and turning it about in his hands. {No open.}

Imoen turned the potion upright an uncorked it. {Try now?}

{... No want,} he pouted. {Funny.}

Imoen had to work really hard not to laugh at him. She placed her hands gently on the Red Wizard's arms and stepped close. {Will you please drink it, dragon? For me? You trust me, don't you? You know, I think if you drink it aaalll up, you will get some sparkles back!}

He looked doubtfully at the vial and then at her. {But... _funny_.}

{Pleaaasee?} she begged. When Edwin still looked uncertain, she stood on her toes and placed a firm kiss on his cheek. Xan made an indignant sound. Edwin lifted a brow at her, clearly baffled. Then he sighed, closing his eyes in defeat.

{Okay,} he submitted, lifting the potion up to down it in one gulp.

A brief moment passed in silence. Then Edwin made a face of surprise and dismay. He staggered backwards, dropped the empty vial where it shattered, and then raised a hand to cover his face and pinch the bridge of his nose. {Oh...} he moaned.

{Edwin?} Imoen called worriedly, grasping his arm to steady him. He shuddered slightly.

{I-I'm here,} the Thayvian muttered. And he _was_, though he was also suffering from the most intense headache of his life. {Give me a... a moment...}

"Edwin!" Imoen exclaimed in delight, and then cringed when he did. "Headache?" she whispered loudly. "Oops. Sorry! But Edwin! You're back!"

"The hells h-happened?" the conjurer grimaced. "My head feels pocketed with holes..."

"Your head _is_ pocketed with holes!" Imoen told him. "Edwin, you've basically been Feebleminded!"

The Thayvian stiffened as her words settled in and made sense of his cluttered memories. He lowered his hand, looked around at where he was, and then stared down at her for a moment. "Feeble-... How?"

"Well!" Imoen said, leaning back and placing her hands on her hips. She'd remembered that she ought to be mad at him. "Apparently you jumped Dynaheir," she scolded him. "Like an idiot. And her whole witch/coven/circle-thingy melted your brain. Ringing any bells, dumb-butt?"

Aegis snorted and settled in to listen. She was reliant on other peoples' descriptions of magic to explain what her wizards had done to eachother, and she expected that she was in for quite a story.

Edwin took an unsteady step to the side, trying to think. "Th-that witch was already doing Circle M-magic when I got there!" he protested. Then he looked around, noticing Xan and Aegis. A chill ran down his spine as he realized he needed to present the truth of his actions immediately. "I had moments to act, the elf clearly was not going to be forthcoming, and so I tried to interrupt her the only way I knew how!"

"She was just seeking advice!" Xan disagreed.

Edwin whirled on the elf, "Circle Magic is for empowering spells, you ignorant fool!" he hissed. "And I was the only conceivable target!"

"You fork-tongued snake," Xan retorted hotly, cyan eyes narrowed. "She did not act first! You had molested her while she was paralyzed, and she was only seeking to leave peacefully as a result! She is not the monster here!"

"I kept my vow, elf!" Edwin snapped in frustration. "And you should be grateful! I had valid reasons for trying to stop that Circle Magic, if my current state is not proof enough for you!"

Viconia suddenly broke out laughing, lifting a hand to shield her mouth. Most of the present party members looked to her in surprise. "Are- are any of you really buying a tale of innocence from a Thayvian?" she chortled. Aegis lifted a brow. "Come now, you know he is just frustrated because his victim escaped him and bloodied his nose in the process."

Edwin's upper lip curled into a slow and disbelieving sneer. Aegis scratched her chin thoughtfully, because Viconia and Edwin normally got along well enough if one ignored the latter's thwarted advances.

Viconia continued: "Who here really believes Dynaheir might be a cold-blooded murderer? Or that Edwin might be some misunderstood crusader of goodness? Look, I don't mean to act like you're all stupid... but... he _attacked_ her. He keeps reminding us that he wants to kill her. I say this calls for our leader to made good on her promise to-"

"You glorious, twisted, two-faced bitch of a woman," he snarled. "I would applaud your vicious backstab and drink to your health if I were not the target. You think just because you pretend at fairness in a throaty purr that anyone can't see straight through you!?"

"Viconia had been a faithful and stalwart companion!" Ajantis interjected protectively.

The Thayvian laughed disparagingly. "Viconia tried to buy my loyalty in a scheme to murder Xan and Kivan, and in exchange she offered Dynaheir's life! I am the one who turned _her_ down!"

Viconia stepped forward, throwing her head high. "Dynaheir is my friend, you grotesque excuse for a male," Viconia hissed with a victorious gleam in her eyes. "Do you really think anyone here believes your lies?"

Edwin's eyes widened when he realized he'd made an accusation he couldn't back up; and his life was on the line. "They should believe me over a mentally unbalanced Sharite! Explain to me, Viconia, how did Dynaheir become paralyzed yet unharmed!?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Viconia mocked. "Perhaps someone used his leverage over a pink thief to steal necromantic secrets from our leader's mate and then sicked a ghoul on the poor Wychlaran?"

"You-!" Edwin hissed, lunging at her, but Imoen grabbed him around the middle.

Aegis lifted her hands and stepped between everyone. "Wait, wait, wait, slow down!" the ranger exclaimed. "What is going on? You did what?"

"Edwin is telling the truth!" Imoen shouted.

Xan whirled on her with a scowl. "What is wrong with you!?" he exclaimed. "Why are you siding with him no matter what he's done!?"

"This Thayvian is trying to turn us all against one another," Viconia agreed. "He-"

Aegis sucked in a slow breath and then lifted up her axe and threw it into the ground with a hard, loud slam. The party members around her jumped and looked to her in question. "The next person who talks out of turn is going to get a black eye," she told them in a low voice. "Is that understood?" Viconia scoffed but was silent. Aegis looked around at all of the party members and then turned at last to Imoen. "Now... You say you know he's telling the truth, and I want you to explain your reasoning."

..

* * *

Imoen squeezed Edwin's arm. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before stepping forward. "I wouldn't say anything, except that I'm now sure Viconia has attempted to kill Xan. And for all that Xan has made me angry, he's still at least my second best friend ever."

Viconia looked ready to say something, but Ajantis placed a cautionary hand on her shoulder.

"I'll prove it step by step. First of all. Edwin. Did I or did I not steal on your behalf a spell from Xzar's spellbook that would allow you to control ghouls like he did in Nashkel mines?"

Aegis blinked in surprise. Edwin looked down at Imoen and frowned. "You did," he said.

Aegis scowled, but she had a bone to throw her sister. "And we all agree that a ghoul paralyzed Dynaheir, correct?" she received nods from Xan, Viconia, and Edwin.

Imoen's eyes flashed and she nodded in thanks. "That is significant, because Edwin's ideal scenario would by Dynaheir getting killed 'naturally' by her environment. He'd avoid blame. Now, Viconia is implying Edwin seized control of a ghoul and paralyzed Dyn with it. Xan, do you have any idea why Edwin would then choose to harass Dynaheir instead of outright killing her? After all, the murder would look 'natural.'"

Xan frowned. "Perhaps because _you_ would know," the elf supposed. "You stole the spell and you'd seen it in action."_ Though Edwin could likely have escaped before you marshaled the will to say anything,_ the elf thought bitterly.

"Technically he would have also broken his vow," Aegis reminded them.

Imoen nodded. "Okay. Now Edwin says Viconia was there and either paralyzed Dynaheir with a Rebuked ghoul, or Rebuked the ghoul right before it could kill her. Either way, she then called Edwin over to make the exchange. Viconia, you say this didn't happen. In that scenario, Edwin still has to refuse the offer because of the spell he knows. He explains his reasoning and then goes up to harass Dynaheir. Viconia walks away; she knows she can expose him if Dyn doesn't come back."

"None of which happened. The ghoul was clearly his own work," Viconia repeated.

"Actually," Aegis sighed, "you implicated yourself almost immediately. Imoen just laid it out the long way. No one ever mentioned Dynaheir was paralyzed by a ghoul. Xan, and Edwin were the only ones who knew, and neither of them said anything."

Viconia blinked, startled.

Imoen nodded. "Viconia ought to have assumed a trap or a Hold Person spell. Of course I can go on. For example: How did she jump to her conclusion? Even if she knew I'd ever stolen on Edwin's behalf, most non-wizards don't even know spells are something to be coveted. She mentioned Xzar; Who naively assumes Xzar has anything worth stealing? Why not assume Edwin employed a more common, more tiring, more high-powered spell? Why assume a super-special-secret-stolen spell? The only reason she could throw such a complete accusation, is if he himself explained his reasoning to her while declining an offer.

"Her story has other contextual faults. Edwin's version has him 'keeping' his vow, which Viconia is unaware he's upheld previously. His version also has the best explanation for not going through with the murder because it entails him staying with the party longer, giving me time to expose him. In Viconia's version, he probably could have escaped before I realized what happened or said anything.

"In sum: Viconia attempted to bring about Xan's, Kivan's, and Dynaheir's deaths. This is consistent with Edwin telling Xan earlier that he 'ought to be grateful.'" Imoen turned her head and looked up at Edwin. The Thayvian was staring down at her, face unreadable.

Aegis nodded. "And right now she's trying to get him killed to spite him for denying her, to advance her status in the party, to present the appearance of lawfulness to Ajantis, and to cover her tracks. She knows that without herself and Xan, Edwin's only ally is Imoen. And Immy's pink, emotional, and chatters about cakes; how perceptive can she possibly be?"

The drow was staring at her quietly, lips pressed tightly together, eyes narrowed. The whole of the party slowly turned to look at her, Ajantis included. A moment later Viconia sneered and darted backwards, calling on Shar. Aegis sighed and rubbed her face. "Ajantis, please sit on her until she calms down."

The drow paused. "You are not going to kill me?" she asked, glancing at Ajantis and Aegis both. The paladin looked as if he had been stunned to silence and wasn't sure what to do.

"Don't tempt me any further," Aegis answered. "Because my patience is wearing thin. I _am_ going to treat you like a misbehaving child, however; and you aren't going to get out of that indignity. Ajantis, please take Viconia as your responsibility. Go... sternly disapprove of her actions, reassure her no one is going to bash her head in, and keep her and Xan from interacting for awhile. Conversely, Viconia, keep Kagain and Shar-Teel away from Ajantis. If anything happens to him, I've decided to hold _you_ responsible."

Ajantis straightened and nodded, relieved to have any authority figure on hand to interpret such morally challenging events. He looked to Viconia and stepped up to her. She grimaced but deflated slightly. No doubt a conversation overusing the word 'Evil' was soon to follow, but perhaps repeated exposure to idealism would train Viconia onto the idea that few surfaces aspired to the same virtues as drow.

Aegis turned back to their Thayvian, who had been quiet for the last few minutes. "Edwin, we were just about to start in on the wraiths, so take a few minutes to get your bearings. We didn't feed you that potion to extract testimony, by the way; we did it to get you back on your feet. Just hang in there for now; we'll get you back safely."

The ranger paused briefly to shake a finger at Imoen. "You cause me headaches. Keep him safe," she told her sister. Imoen smiled. Xan grimaced and then followed after Aegis as the ranger turned around and headed back towards the party.

[Do you care nothing for what he has done to Dynaheir?] the elf began, reaching up to touch their leader's arm.

[Of course I care. Anyone could suppose he probably had this coming. But we can discuss with Imoen more later. Right now I sincerely doubt it's ethical to just leave him down here _or_ kill him. Would even Dynaheir herself disagree with me?] Xan sighed. [Take it easy, and let's take this one step at a time.]

..

* * *

Imoen watched their party members go and then gave a huge, dramatic, relieved sigh. She turned back to Edwin, and was surprised to see he still had a very tense posture, as if he were filled with adrenaline. It occurred to her that he'd scarcely been cognizant a moment before being confronted with the sense that he was being judged, and that his life was in danger. He stared after the party a moment longer than she, and then turned his gaze down to her. His gaze was incredibly intense, as if he were seeing straight into her.

{You have let me down, Peacock,} she scolded him. {What did you _do_ to Dynaheir? She's usually so reasonable and composed! I would totally kick you in the shin if you weren't already a mess. You really are a mess, look at you, you look like you've seen a ghost. Er, I meant the idiom, not...}

He grabbed her arm to stop her, and his grip was slightly uncomfortable. {What did you give me? That potion.}

{It's called a _Potion of the Scholar_,} she explained. {It will last six hours, like a_ Potion of Insight. _Then the _Feeblemind_ will-}

{This isn't a _Feeblemind_ effect,} he told her. Imoen blinked as Edwin considered the situation in which he found himself. {_Feeblemind_ also destroys a person's sense of self. I am unharmed in that respect.}

Imoen frowned. {So... whatever the coven did to you... it might be easier or possibly harder to fix?}

He shook his head unknowingly and lowered his head to clutch at his temple. {Do... Do you have any more of those potions, or am I to return to darkness in six hours?}

{I have three,} she acknowledged. {But now I'm thinking we should ration them.}

Edwin made a very displeased face at that idea. {How much do they cost?}

{Not sure. Maybe about three hundred a pop? They're not common either,} Imoen confessed.

The conjurer was quiet a long moment. {I... none of my spells are coming to mind,} he realized aloud.

Imoen nodded understandingly, taking the spellbook from his side. {You are going to have to cram in studying while walking and between fights,} she realized, flipping through the pages. {I will lead you about by the elbow if that's what it takes. But right now we have got a few minutes.} She handed him the book with _Fireball_ facing up. {I suggest you work from your best spells downward. The more you can dish out now, the more the _rest_ of the group will have at their disposal later.}

Edwin frowned down at the spellbook. She saw urgency, stress, and frustration on his face. He wanted desperately to fix his situation immediately, and he was utterly helpless to do so. {You-you are advising me on team strategy... when half my party would see me _dead_?} After a brief moment, he looked hesitantly up at her. {How did I get back to camp?} he asked her quietly.

{I found you and led you back. Jackal helped. When I woke up you were gone! Shared the shit out of me. Are you okay? You look _really_ unnerved.} she touched his arm.

{Of course I am not _okay!_} Then he grimaced as if trying to bite back on the anger of the words. {I... I was half _dead_ several minutes ago! I am severely... crippled! And my recovery is clearly little more than an unpleasant and possibly immoral errand to anyone here! I am the mercy of fools, and half my allies are _enemies_!}

She grabbed both his shoulders. {You've got _me_,} she reminded him. {Wasn't that the _whole_ purpose of 'befriending' me in the first place?}

Edwin pulled back an inch, swallowing hard; his lips pressing tightly together as he stared at her uncertainly.

Imoen smiled wryly. {And I'm way more responsible than you; I won't get distracted and let a Basilisk sneak up behind you. Promise.}

Truth be told, there was a significant part of Edwin Odesseiron that bade him demand all three potions and make straight for the Song of the Morning as far as he could travel. A part of him that bid him to rely on no one. As he stared down at his pink companion, he thought of Viconia; of the Brothel; of the Ogre; of the Cave In. His posture withdrew tightly into itself, an expression of pain dragged his gaze low to the side. Then he shut his eyes, his fingers clenching against the edges of his spellbook. {Of course,} he said with quiet bitterness.

Imoen lamented that a hug was probably not the proper solution at this point in time. {You look very rugged without proper morning grooming,} she told him mischievously.

The Thayvian looked at her, anxiety dissolving into nothing more severe than annoyance. Then he scratched at his jawline irritably. Imoen beamed.

* * *

_"Gorion..." Khelben murmured. "We... we should have foreseen, we should have felt his eye on you... We should have been able to better advise you, better protect you..."_

_"I did this," the aasimar said, looking back down to the child in his arms. "Only I can undo it. Hush, little one, I know you are in pain. Help is coming."_

_"Why does she require a restoration?" the archmagus thought to ask, but Gorion shook his head and didn't answer._

_"I swore I would find a way- some way- to save her from him. That I wouldn't rear her _for_ him and that I wouldn't let her die for him either. Oghma, give me patience, I _will_ find a way..."_

_Khelben's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered this. "Gorion... how badly is she tainted?"_

_This time, the younger wizard did not answer at all._

_His mentor frowned. "Will you let me see her?"_

_The aasimar looked up at him. "Do you remember your promise to me?"_

_"I do. No harm will come to her."_

_"She..." Gorion hesitated. "A priestess was..." He slowly tilted the bundle, pulling down the swaddling. Khelben took in a slow breath through the nose. "She was flaying her."_

_The child was missing skin and meat from her fingers and face. Golden curls of hair bounced harmlessly alongside a bared cheekbone of pure ebony, and desecrated cheek muscles had turned the gray color of ash. The child was slightly frightened, and opened terrified lips in a cry on seeing a stranger._

_Gorion shuddered, and as he knew she was not hungry he slipped a hand to her mouth. She latched on to his finger and sucked on it, whimpering softly. Her tiny clawed fingertips balled up, uncoordinated, in loose strands of his hair. _

_"Gorion... Gorion, not that one," Khelben breathed, because the powerful taint of Murder was obvious even to an untrained eye. "Not... Gorion, was that child sired by the _Slayer?_ It will never be a real, human babe; it will never call you father if it even speaks at all; it is a beast, a danger, a-a-"_

_The aasimar stood up roughly, throwing his chair back and clutching the baby girl defensively to his breast. The fingertips of his free hand brimmed with frost. "You gave me your word!" he growled._

_"I did..." Khelben began diplomatically. "But reconsider whose will you are doing if that creature reaches adulthood by your hand."_

_"I should have _known_ you would not understand, I should have _known_ you would not see the opening, the crack, so thin as it is-!"_

_"A child like the little girl Maevi? Or like the children you saved in that very first raid in Amn? Yes, Gorion, perhaps one of those could be saved; purged of its divinity and left to a free life. But this child-"_

_"Touch her and you will _unmake_ me. I will either kill you, or die with nothing but bloodlust remaining of me!"_

_"Gorion..." Kheben reached out a hand to comfort the man._

_"Do not touch her!" the aasimar hissed, backing up. "Do not touch me with her euthanization on your mind! I have had enough of death for a thousand lifetimes!"_

_"Then do not invite your own destruction with a child who is more shade than living!" Khelben protested._

_"She is damned! Damned, like my son was damned! I am the only chance she has! Don't you see? Don't you understand?! That is all that's left! That is all that remains of anything; that she is damned and that I can try to do something! Let me be damned in her stead if that will help; if that will give me one chance, however small, to save my infant daughter from being _EATEN_ by that thing which raped her mother!"_

_"She is not your-"_

_"SHE IS MINE!" the broken man shrieked, ice crackling about his feet. Then, seeing the disturbed look on Khbelben's face, he shuddered and slumped into himself, dismissing the spellery and retreating back another step. The baby had started crying and he pressed his face into her, embracing her as fiercely and lovingly as any parent had ever hugged their newborn infant._

_A long moment passed in silence._

_"Please," the younger wizard whispered brokenly. "Please don't hurt my child."_

_Khelben was quiet for a long moment. Then he asked the most natural question he knew of; one that he had heard many times as a father. "What is her name?"_

_Gorion quivered. "I want to wait until she is older," he said weakly. Lest I name her something trite like 'Hope.' "_

_"Do you have a name in mind?" the archmagus prodded gently. A silence stretched between them._

_"Aegis," Gorion responded at last. "I have always wanted to call her Aegis."_

_Khelben nodded. "Aegis, then. I gave you my vow, Gorion. I will help you, and I will not harm your... your daughter. You may stay here until you have determined what your next course of action is. I will see to it that the child is restored and that her form is mended."_

_Gorion looked at him slowly. He swallowed thickly past emotion. "Thank you."_

_"No," Khelben answered. "We gave you this task and let you do our dirty work for us. We wiped our hands clean. We owe you, Gorion. If Mystra's voice is indeed lost to you, then it is by our fault. You have been our true friend, and you have managed to endure through quite a fire. It is time to pay that friendship back. If you truly believe this... child... is the only way forward, then we will clear the path for you. And may Oghma's wisdom ever be clear in your mind." He took a breath. "But if you ask me personally, you chose one hell of an unapproachable penance."_

_"That's what makes it a penance," Gorion said. "And I think she chose me."_

_Khelben shook his head. "Let's get you to your guest suite so you can catch your breath. I'm about to charm an old blind priest for this restoration, and I need to make my own penance. Involving fruit, gold and incense, mind you; not adopting babies. You honestly have no idea what you are in for. The terrible twos are about to take on a whole new meaning..."_

* * *

Super-sister logical reasoning & sense motive tag-team!

I think Viconia's mistakes were very understandable. Who would naively assume Imoen was actually useful? ;) Or that Edwin voluntarily upheld vows?

Oh boy, our poor group is fracturing into pieces XD


	35. Leaving the Depths

Leaving the Depths

..

* * *

The group was whispering rapidly. They were deciding who should go where and why should go what. They were under the effects of everything from a _Bull's Strength_ to a _Protection_ from every conceivable element. With such a tremendous number of magical boons hovering about them, they were absolutely ready for a fight.

Ahead of them was a very large, long halll. Around five hundred feet of distance stretched between them and the swarming wraiths, who were gathered around the far end of the chamber. Huge stone pillars towered up on each side of them, reaching up into a high vaulted ceiling of which little detail could be seen. By the look of the old rotten tables and sagging tapestries, this place had once been a massive dining hall or meeting place for the school.

Ahead of them, the wraiths were like great ethereal rags of shadow topped by deep black hoods. Clawed fingers of smoke curled out in front of them, and they whirled through the air in twists and curls that made it clear no body lingered beneath their cloth-like volumes. Their transparency varied from a nearly invisible appearance to a nearly solid one. They were not exactly 'loud,' but they made soft whispers and croons which could somehow be heard from exceptionally far away.

While they argued, Edwin Odesseiron strode calmly out into the open hallway. By the time anyone noticed he was thirty feet ahead of them, four dozen wraiths had whirled about to converge on his position.

"Edwin!" Imoen exclaimed as a fireball rippled up in his hand. He threw it with great force. Then he was already summoning up the next before the first had even reached its mark or detonated.

The first fireball streaked all five hundred feet to the end of the chamber, and slammed into the wraiths with a boom of flaming and concussive force. The wraiths bore no mark of the onslaught and streaked out of its fiery surface before it had even dissipated, but they were clearly not happy. They surged towards him with a rising wave of screams, and dove to ground level en masse. His second fireball hit almost all of them collectively at four hundred feet.

"Move!" Aegis commanded, gesturing for the party to dart forward and take their positions. They scrambled after their stupid mage, under a cacophony of unearthly shrieks

Edwin didn't falter, and when Aegis tried to pull him back to safety, Imoen waved her sister aside. He hurled the third fireball with the same conviction as the previous two, and in its concussive thunder they heard a cascade of despairing wails. The bright flashes were making it difficult to see, and the transparent shapes of the wraiths were hard to make out, but it seemed as if many of them were suddenly missing. The fourth fireball landed with a violent bang at a hundred feet and then Edwin was muttering completely different words of draconic.

There were four or five tattered looking ethereal shapes diving towards them around the edges of the pillars and from higher up off the floor, some as close as fifty feet and others as far as a hundred and fifty. Magic missiles streamed out from the conjurer's hands, pinpoints of light that barraged the wraiths and sent up despairing screams all over the chamber.

When he had stopped casting, the hall was silent. Edwin stood there, his fingers glimmering with a magic missile spell he was just barely managing not to fire, looking from side to side for any remaining targets. Then he dismissed the spell with a syllable and a shake of his hand. He was breathing heavily as he slowly turned about to face his confused and curious party members. There was sweat beaded on his brow from the exertion of calling on the Weave so rapidly without pausing to stabilize himself or even breath naturally.

Imoen touched his arm gently, to make sure he was alright. He stood there and looked briefly at each of them before settling his gaze on Aegis. The ranger took in a slow breath and nodded, realizing he _needed_ the affirmation. He was a glorious and pathetic thing in that moment: a man who knew he had nothing to offer anyone but his talents, and who understood no means of earning loyalty other than demonstrating his competence._  
_

"That was..." Ajantis managed, slightly awed by such a bold display of magic. A number of the party members look slightly cowed; but it was Aegis' nod that seemed to settle their volatile conjurer down. She hadn't misread him, then: Edwin wasn't being blustery. He was frightened.

"Let's move," the ranger said, drawing attention away from him. "We don't know if we've got all of them, and there could be other problems drawn the by sound; as usual. Keep your guard up and no one wander off alone!"

Imoen shouldered her bow and took Edwin by the arm, staying close to him as the others surged past. She passed him a skin of water as they took up the rear. {Are you alright?}

{I'm fine, whore,} he growled after drinking, but didn't begrudge her the touch. Ahead of them, some ghouls were crawling up from cracks in the far eastern corner of the hall, and skeleton crossbowmen were hurrying in via a side hall. It looked like they'd be able to put their magical boons to use after all.

..

* * *

The little library to Deneir had been perfectly preserved. It was an adorable, violet-themed, little thing, crammed with books, notes, pendants, and other magical goodies that seemed more personal than powerful. It reminded the Candlekeep girls of home. Everyone of a remotely bookish inclination was swiftly at the shelves, gathering up anything of value to stuff in Imoen's Bag of Holding.

Edwin found the _History of the Sisters of Light and Darkness_ on a pedestal and quickly carried it back to Imoen. She flicked through it and nodded, quickly storing it.

"This is _incredibly_ boring," Shar-Teel moaned. "Where are the rooms loaded with gold and ancient artifacts or something? I thought wizards were wealthy." Kagain had noticed some gems that were of no small value, and he rolled his eyes at Shar-Teel's one-dimensional concept of what money looked like. There were many things born of the earth worth far more than gold.

Branwen had followed up behind Xan and was peering over his shoulder, interested not for the sake of the books but for the sake of the elf reading them. She wanted to know what it was that nabbed his attention, and was surprised when he abruptly drew out a book on what appeared to be the care and maintenance of small plants called 'bonsai trees.' She coughed politely when he started flipping through it, and he nearly leaped out of his skin. Then he acquired a bashful expression as he realized he'd lost track of his attention. Branwen smiled, took the book, and tucked it into his pack for him.

"Fifteen minutes and then we're out," Aegis agreed nevertheless. "Imoen, look for any-"

"Guys, I found a secret book that opens up a small chamber that has a trapped chest in it that I disabled!"

"-secrets... She just moves too fast for me sometimes."

..

* * *

Between Xan and Aegis, the party believed it understood the most straightforward path upward. As they climbed and battled their way towards the surface, they became slightly lost at times. It was at one such time that they paused against a tower with two bridges leading onward. One was large, but listing and dilapidated with thick mushrooms and lichen dangling from its sides. A smaller one on the floor above them was stronger but it would only let them proceed one abreast.

It was a temporary dilemma, but they decided to send Aegis, Kagain, Shar-Teel, and Viconia quickly across to top bridge to handle any ambush. Sure enough, there were skeletons shooting at them in no time, and the commotion drew small purple wraith things and ghouls up from the depths of the next tower.

Xan glanced behind him to where Edwin and Imoen had taken up the rear. Imoen was taking careful shots at skeletal crossbowmen, whilst Edwin muttered almost without breathing. He was calling them all useless fools. Branwen leaned close to the elf. "He's not happy," she noted quietly. "Don't provoke him, you."

"He's nearly exhausted his spells," Xan replied. "He's no danger to anyone."

Branwen eyed him sternly. "Not what I'm talking about, little man," she warned him, slipping an arm about the small of his back and lifting her shield. A stray skeleton had started firing on them, but she caught the first bolt fairly easily. "Be nice. Imm's already cross with you."

Xan pouted slightly, irritated that everyone everywhere seemed to be willing to overlook Edwin's cruel and homicidal inclinations. The fact that he'd been maimed afterward did not somehow absolve him of that! But then the enchanter lost his train of thought when Branwen turned a surprising kiss into his hair. "Am I currently hysterical?" he asked, and she chuckled.

"Nae. I've been wondering whether I might convince you to let me in a bit when we're back in Beregost. Maybe talk to me a bit about what happened to you in Nashkel." He frowned uncertainly, and she gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Figure it's a bit of a burden to carry alone. Well, don't answer me right away. Think on it a bit."

"I think I would appreciate that," Xan decided after a moment of silence. His voice picked up in speed and word usage, and she realized this meant he was nervous. "These on-the-top-of-the-head kisses are also growing on me. I have decided I would not be opposed were you to begin distributing more of them, including during periods in which I am not out of my mind. No, no I would not be opposed, certainly, though-"

Branwen, who was watching amused as two ears perked up a full inch in tumidity, leaned over and placed another kiss upon his crown. Her elf closed his eyes and hummed contently.

..

* * *

Edwin glowered at the elf and cleric, irritated that they should be coddling one another when the surface still lay so far beyond his grasp. {Can my opinion of this group drop any lower? Evidently so,} he hissed.

{You're getting more and more jumpy,} Imoen noted at last, firing off an arrow and looking at her companion. It took a keen eye to see, but he was literally trembling with anxious energy. His gaze darted around rapidly, and she felt his mind was running too quickly to be doing anything of much value.

He glanced at her quickly. {It's about to wear off. Isn't it?} He had the timing right.

{Probably,} Imoen agreed. {If you've got any magical protections at all, throw them up now.}

He sneered, rubbing his hands together and digging the nails into the skin as he thought. {Give me another potion, whore.}

Imoen had been expecting this conversation. She was prepared. {Edwin, we don't know how long you are going to be stuck like this. Especially if the Wychlaran did something _really_ nasty to you. We need to pace-}

{Give it to me!} he snapped, whirling on her, his face looking sharp and hollow in the glow of their light spells. {I will not be reduced to a hapless simpleton again! I will not be weak, not be made reliant on-on-!}

{On me?} Imoen supplied patiently.

Edwin cut off, staring at her and breathing heavily. He was definitely shaking; she could see the quivers in his shoulders and arms as she watched him. After a moment he swallowed dryly. {Give me another potion,} he told her in a low voice. He was unsuccessful in veiling his desperation, and it leaked through the cracks. He knew she was right, try as he might to deny it.

Imoen shook her head. {One a day. Half your waking hours. That'll give me enough time to find more if-}

{Damn you, do not leave me in that state!} he suddenly shouted, and Xan and Branwen glanced back at them cautiously. {_Give_ me those potions or I will _burn_ them from you!}

{_Leave_ you?} Imoen asked incredulously. {Edwin, I'm not going to _leave_ you anywhere! You've been very seriously injured and your 'medicine' is in short supply. You have to ration your lucid hours for precisely when you need them! And right now-}

He advanced on her, gesturing sharply with a hand. {When I _need_ them!? Which is up to whose judgement, exactly!? _You_ get to decide when I _need_ lucidity!?}

Imoen took a steadily breath. {Are you afraid you are going to 'go to sleep' and never 'wake up' again?} she asked him calmly, trying to understand where his blind panic seemed to be coming from. Edwin jerked back an inch. He absolutely and unmistakably was shaking. When he didn't immediately respond, she turned and stepped up to him, and reached forward to clasp his arms. {Okay, look,} she told him, holding on when he tried to retreat, {you need to talk to me.}

{You manipulative, insipid litt-}

{Edwin!} she exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders. {Look at me. No one can understand us right now, so talk to me! What is eating you?} She looked up into his face, hoping he'd drop a shield or two and answer her honestly. {I'm telling you that you can count on me. That I won't let you down. You and I might not agree on anything resembling basic moral philosophy, but I'm pretty sure we'd at least gotten past _trusting_ each other. What gives?}

He grabbed her by the front of her cloak and hauled her angrily near. {If you think I trust _anyone_ but myself, you wretched, purple strumpet, then you are _delusional_!} He released her and then tried to snatch her potion container. She grabbed his hand.

{No! I will not give you these potions, just like I did not give you your spellbook during the cave-in! When one of us is in trouble, the other one picks up the slack! You saved me from hobgoblins by mouthing _Burning Hands_ and signing _Fireball_ and I figured out what to do from that. I barged into a brothel to drag your ass out. You de-petrified me and then babysat me the entire time I was injured. I pulled the rug out from under Viconia when she laid into you. For goodness sake, I have _spoon fed you oatmeal_, Edwin Odesseiron! Now what the _hell_ is up with you?!}

He grabbed at her throat, although his fingers came up short and he clutched his hand into a fist. {I am _done_ with your games, specious trollop! I am not so easy to use!}

{Edwin, I am not going to abandon you to stupid-ness!} she cried in exasperation.

He was flushed red and shouting now: {No!? When you know the _first_ thing I'll do upon recovering is hunt down that gods be damned Wychlaran!? You'll help me when my _next_ step will be to kill her!? I am not to be kept like some pet, some familiar, to be left in the dark until summoned by your whim!}

There. That was the explanation. {Edwin, by all the gods, I swear to you...} she took in a deep, swift breath, {I will neither abandon nor take advantage of you while you are incapacitated. I will take you _directly_ to get healing, come hell or high water.}

His jaws clenched together tightly in surprise. He had not expected such an answer. Then he shook his head. {No. No, I do not believe you. You think she is in the right, you all are on her side-!}

{She _is_ in the right! But you're _hurt_! _Y__ou_ know me _way_ too well not to believe me! You're thinking about how easy it would be for us to leave you on the road, push you off a cliff, or even geas you. But what you need to think about is who I am and whether I've ever let you down when you've been vulnerable before!}

Edwin stared at her, trembling, all the volume and fight gone out of him. The loss of his only virtue- his intellect- had left him confused on what he had worth saving. {The wine,} he sputtered almost without thinking.

Imoen blinked. {What?}

{The wine. I'm not left hand-} he cut off as he realized what he was saying, and gagged in disgust at himself.

Imoen's lips parted in astonishment for a brief instant, as Edwin had finally admitted (perhaps to both of them) the hurt, betrayed, and jealous truth behind why he'd withheld that healing potion on the route up from Beregost. It wasn't that his explanation in any way justified the actions he had taken; but the sudden admission of genuine human emotion was somehow valuable in and of itself... after the fact... independently.

Then she rapidly shook her head and stepped forward, throwing her arms about the wizard's neck and shoulder and hugging him tightly. He went incredibly stiff, not sure what to do. {You're going to be fine, Dragon,} she promised him in the lowest and most earnest voice she had. {And I'll make sure of it, because you're mine.}

Overwhelmed, exhausted, frantic, panicked, and on the verge of slipping back into the darkness of severe mental disability, Edwin did not move. He stood there, rejecting and enduring the nonsense of her loyalty, lost for any sensation of control or comprehension. He _knew_ Imoen would not have stood idly by if he'd assaulted Dynaheir. He _knew_ she believed Dynaheir to be the 'better person,' and he _knew_ she would have permanently turned against him if he'd ever harmed the Wychlaran. Her reassurances were illegitimate and senseless, but some perverse and backwards part of himself _wanted_ them.

Abruptly a quiet came upon his mind, and his eyes widened in alarm. He nearly fell backwards a step and lifted his hands to clutch at his head. {No!} he exclaimed. {No! no, no, please, no, no! _Fuck_ you, _fuck you_ whore! Is_ this_ what you want to see!?}

The thief winced. {No- I-I am here for you-} Imoen tried as best she could to keep Edwin calm as he sputtered and writhed in his panic, his fingers clutching at his temple and at her shoulder. {I am here, I am here-!}

{Ah-aah!} The Thayvian cried out miserably, his nails digging into his skin and drawing blood along his scalp as the potion yielded and his mental faculties drained away. He ducked his head, his eyes closing tightly {N-no! _No!_}

Imoen grabbed his hands, pulling them back from his face and then replacing them with her own. She stroked through his hair. {I am here,} she promised, eyes wide. {I am here, and you will be okay!}

Edwin clutched at her, trembling. Imoen held tightly on to him.

A long moment passed in silence.

Then slowly, pathetically, he lifted his head. He looked at her with a dazed and sad expression. {Gone,} he mumbled helplessly.

Imoen stroked gently through his hair for a moment, trying to calm herself down now. {Yeah,} she agreed quietly, dismayed. She only had three potions, and if she ran out and Kelddath wasn't able to mend him, then it would be very difficult for her to figure out what to do next without Edwin's input. {For now.}

He shuddered. "Kwefai," he pleaded, remembering that there was something she could do to help, but no longer recalling what. {Please. Sparkles?}

Imoen winced, because it was much harder to resist him in this state than when he'd been yelling. Doing the right thing sure wasn't always easy. {Not yet,} she tried to be soothing.

The wizard sighed, but nodded trustingly. {Okay,} he whispered; he had no other choice.

Imoen stood back slowly, and then turned to see Xan and Branwen were watching them. They both appeared quite unnerved. The thief lifted a brow. "What? What are you looking at? Don't you believe it's okay to leave him like this? Go on, then! Nothing to see here, people," she lectured them sternly. "Just a Thayvian having a silly mental break down. Back to work!"

Branwen and Xan glanced at one another, and then they moved forward to see if the bridge was clear and the other half of the party was ready for them to cross. Imoen took a deep breath, sighed, and then stepped forward.

{Stay close to me, okay?} she suggested, looking back to her companion and taking his hand in hers so he wouldn't wander off.

He nodded, shuffling close behind her as if actively seeking her protection. {Friends?} he asked her weakly.

{Friends,} Imoen promised quietly. She'd never been more ardent about any promise in her life. Dynaheir just wasn't the person who needed her right then.

..

* * *

"We need to start fighting the bandits," Ajantis was saying as they neared the exit of the ruins.

Kagain scoffed. "We's be missing a significant number of heavy hitters. Two wizards is a hell of a lot of firepower, kid."

Ajantis shook his head. "We of the Order of the Radiant Heart have tackled evils far worse than bandits without the support of wizards-"

"Great! Less of you in the world as a result," the dwarf snapped.

"There is something insidiously _evil_ about everything you say!" the paladin burst out. Edwin, of course, was only one of Aegis' many problems. The group's general crankiness was worsening, and Kagain and Ajantis had taken swipes at each other previously.

"Calm down," the ranger sighed while Kagain muttered something like 'Moron.' "We need some ale and a long talk on group dynamics, because all this fighting is just not going to fly much longer."

"Group Dynamics!" Kagain wheezed. "Lemme tell _you_, all you need is a pack of assholes strong enough to get the job done and smart enough to know when to engage. This idiot's lacking on both counts, so let's cap his knees, crack his skull, dump him in a pond, and call us cured. "

Aegis looked at Xan in exasperation. "Why am _I_ the only one who seems to think killing people isn't the solution to all problems?" The elf's face screwed up as he considered the question. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only person in the world who takes death seriously...!"

Ajantis was bristling. "You have no care for anything but coin!" he accused. "If your adversaries proposed a bribe, you would betray us in a heartbeat. We have no use for such companions!"

Kagain scowled. "If I was offered a bribe by bandits, I'd give em my answer with an axe and loot the gold off them's corpses! Bastards cost me a fortune; shows what you know! I'm a take my share back with interest out of them's skins!"

"Fine, then, if they bribed you with a new caravan!" the paladin amended.

"I don't take kindly ta punk kids sayin' I don't play by my word. Yas insult what it means ta be a dwarf, and yas shouldn't do it twice!"

"You are _low_ dwarf," Ajantis responded, possibly unaware of the pun. "A base creature with no honor and no calling higher than greed or alcohol!"

Shar-Teel laughed. "He's got the right of it, then!" she sneered. "What's wrong pretty boy? Don't like a world with dirt on it?"

Kagain's eyes narrowed and he thumbed the head of his axe. "I can think of a few other 'callings' at present," he muttered.

Viconia had apparently heard enough because when Ajantis looked ready to respond she grabbed the paladin's arm callously. "Know your place," she told him prohibitively. The paladin frowned at her, vexed by her commanding tone when it was she who had betrayed the group's trust. Still, he said no more.

..

* * *

When they reached the surface, the sun was just setting. Most of the party gave sighs of relief, and Aegis stepped forward. "Let's get off this little hill and over to the woods on the eastern side. I think we all need a warm fire tonight."

Everyone was tired and grumpy but they nodded their assent. They had made it only to the winding path downward, however, when shadows began moving in the dark. Then a skeleton with a softly glowing magical flail stepped forward, its eye sockets blazing with unnatural green light. It was wearing a thick breastplate. "Helllooo Flesshhlings..." an unnatural voice trickled out to them, as lumbering zombies surged up out of the ruins all around them.

"Defensive formation!" Aegis shouted.

"Turn undead!" Xan suggested to the clerics when he saw they were preparing to handle the skeleton. "Leave him for the fighters; the zombies will overwhelm us!" Branwen listened to him, but Viconia and Ajantis did not. They followed the fighters in converging on the oncoming skeleton. This proved to be a mixed blessing, because the skeleton had a surprise for them.

Rather than engaging the fighters, the skeleton darted under Aegis' initial swing with remarkable agility. It hopped nimbly over a low sweep Kagain had intended to sever its legs at the shin. The slash it aimed in Ajantis' direction was stronger than the paladin had realized was possible. Within three seconds, the skeleton was in the heart of the party, face to face with soft targets like Xan, Edwin, and Imoen.

The thief's eyes widened and she transformed the Blacksun into a quarterstaff not an instant too late. "Parry!" she shouted to the elf, who obeyed her with his Moonblade as she lunged forward. She jabbed the quarterstaff's glowing tip into the skeleton and it screamed. Again, however, they underestimated both its intelligence and the force of its blows.

It seized on to the Blacksun with its off-hand, holding on to the weapon as it threw Xan brutally aside with its flail. Ajantis dropped his shield and seized at the skeleton's armor from behind, but he found himself unable to restrain it. Viconia whirled and leaped towards it with her mace, denting the breastplate with a rib-popping crack.

The skeleton ignored them, however, swinging down at a startled Imoen as it pulled her and her quarterstaff closer. The thief yelped in surprise, twisting the butt of the weapon up to parry. She succeeded, forcing the ball of the weapon aside, but her legs buckled slightly under the force. The skeleton reversed the direction of the flail almost without pause, bringing it in to crush her ribs. Imoen lurched reflexively to try and get away just as Edwin shouldered into her, bracing the flat of his dagger with one forearm and catching the flail on its opposite side. He took a glancing injury on either side of the dagger, but managed to stop the full weight of the blow.

Wizards and emergency melee weapons indeed! Who had taught all these spellflingers how to fight, and where had Imoen gone wrong in her own lessons!?

Xan regained their side, slashing across the skeleton's arm with a Moonblade of glowing blue fire. Their adversary released the Blacksun and Imoen stumbled backwards. Viconia and Ajantis now each had a hold on it from behind, and there was an incredibly potent anti-undead weapon at its front.

"We've got the skeleton!" Imoen hollered to their forward fighters.

"Right-O!" Shar-Teel laughed, rushing forward to lay into the zombies with abandon. "Got a Rashemi to out-butcher anyway! Let limbs fly and heads roll! Hahahahah!"

"There's more that's coming!" Kagain shouted back to them as he and Aegis rushed forward to help tackle the oncoming horde. "Free up the damn drow, we needs her!"

Their skeleton struggled, shrieked, and writhed as Xan and Imoen got in fresh slashes and slams. Then they jumped in surprise when a rapid moving blur flew over their heads. The skeleton's head jerked backwards with a sharp crack. When it looked back down at them, there was green fletching sticking out of its forehead.

"Kivan!" Xan released before a barrage of similar arrows began plummeting into the closest zombies on either flank.

"I see arrows!" Aegis sounded delighted from where she and Kagain were proving that axes were better limb-cleavers than swords; but where Shar-Teel was putting them to shame with her quantity of successful one-shot decapitations. "So many arrows! is it my birthday!?"

The elfin ranger appeared out of the darkness, never breaking his stride as he fired. He joined Xan's side. Viconia gave the skeleton one final bashed over the head, caving its skull in. Then she blinked and looked over at Ajantis when the monster didn't fall. He looked at it bewilderment and then added an irritable two-handed slash across the shoulder. This time it crumbled. They sighed in relief before Viconia caught sight of their returning party member.

"What-" the drow sputtered in alarm "-is _he_ doing here!?"

"Kivan!" Xan exclaimed again, nearly tackling the other elf in joy. The only reason he didn't do so was no doubt because it would have been incredibly out of character; thus he managed to restrain himself.

..

* * *

_When Khelben had seen the priest off, he returned to the guest suite. Gorion had changed into fresh robes and was sitting on an arm chair and leaning over the plush foot stool where he'd laid his 'daughter.' He had set aside her swaddling and was gently sponge-bathing her with warm water from a nearby basin. Her confused mumbles and giggles were certainly endearing. She he worked, he rang his fingers all over her. It seemed he was either studying her or reassuring himself of her wholeness._

_Coming up beside him, the archmagus had to admit she now looked significantly more like a real baby. She wiggled and fussed, no longer provoked to tears by aching pain. Her pudgy fingers had short, minute nails, and were no more dangerous than little pink sausages._

_"I've barely looked at her," Gorion chuckled. "Really looked, I mean. I knew her by the heat in my arm, by her cries, and by the way she needed me."_

_Khelben nodded, understanding well how parental instinct could blanket out all thoughts but those related to protection. He was gathering his thoughts._

_"She has eleven fingers and toes," Gorion told him, lifting up her left hand where it was latched about his forefinger. "The extra thumb doesn't seem to work."_

_"Is your mind open to working with difficult information right now?" Khelben asked gently._

_Gorion shifted slightly. Then he sighed. "Tell me what you will. I will _try_ not to lash out."_

_"I can clearly see you are enamored with her. But remember: you could just as well be enamored with a lion cub. Or perhaps a juvenile monkey is the better example. As babes, these animals display most of the same instincts as human children. They are clever and adorable, but..."_

_"But," Gorion agreed, "what they are capable of rapidly tapers off at a ceiling. It was yours and Elminster's prediction that heavily tainted Bhaalspawn would be subsumed by killer instinct and that it would override everything else. It would strangle their minds at a ceiling. And so you do not believe she will learn to speak, to reason, or to display any firm sense of morality. Basically like a monkey."_

_Khelben grunted. "A chimpanzee is seven times stronger than a man, despite being smaller. Even a monthly or annual incident could turn disastrous. When an ape hits puberty, they become violently dangerous even towards the people they love. They become paranoid, territorial, unpredictable, hormonal, and frustrated. Do you see where I am leading? This child will not be much different."_

_The aasimar nodded. "I have seen what the taint does to children when it is powerful and encouraged. I have watched Bhaalspawn infants try to strangle one another."_

_"And it is worse," the archmagus reminded him, hoping that the aasimar would see sense, "because this child is _not_ an animal. She is part divinity, and she will be called to murder like a shark to blood."_

_Gorion smiled gently. "You seem to have forgotten that these remain... predictions. And observations on children who were in the care of Bhaalite clerics and being fed to each other. Tieflings have surprised us before."_

_Khelben sighed, realizing he had gotten nowhere. "Tieflings have an advantage on your Aegis. Do you know what you are aiming for? Have you some strategy or plan, some goal?"_

_"Not exactly," Gorion said. "Except not to grow exasperated, and to be clever in what I try. I do not expect this is going to be easy, or solved by the force of my convictions alone."_

_"You must have some goal," Khelben began. "Without one you will just lose her to Murder. Those who took in Bhaalspawn before you were attempting to free them from their own divinity. Where do you see this child in twenty years?"_

_Gorion gazed down at his daughter, twiddling her toes with one hand as he sponged grime from her chair and cheek. She kicked at his face and he chuckled. "Whole," he answered. "A girl, as strong of mind and spirit as any other. I am not adopting a pet."_

_The archmagus considered this. "And what else do you know of what foundation you're working from?"_

_"Her sire was like a panther with a taste for manflesh," Gorion answered. "Amoral. No empathy. Curious and observant. I assume she will be similar, and that her missing empathy will be the most difficult hole to patch. But I also assume she will be inquisitive, playful, and attentive to the things which interest her. No doubt she will have all sorts of strange quirks, and I shall have to form an opinion about whether it is acceptable for her to violate common taboos: like playing with dead rats."_

_Khelben eyed Gorion uncertainly. "You suggest _building_ a sense of morality where none exists? That is not precisely the easiest game to play. Great men have tried, and great men have failed. There is a reason you do not frequently hear about dragons with color-identity crises."_

_The aasimar seized one flailing foot and kissed it. "Just as well that I am not great, then. Now, do you have any diapers? Or shall we leave the taint of Bhaal all over your home in the form of unnecessary superfluous brown waste products?"_

_.._

* * *

I am for some reason imagining Ajantis holding up a soiled Bhaalspawn diaper going "This diaper has the stench of something... _evil_ about it..."

Gorion's 'I haven't really looked at her' was inspired by my mother. My brother was born with a heart murmur that (thankfully) closed. But I remember she told a story about looking at him days later, while listening to doctors/nurses talk about how a baby with a similar condition had just expired, and she realized he still had **vernix** under his arms and realized she had been so frightened for him and so anxious to figure out what was wrong and protect him that she hadn't even really 'looked' at him! She wondered if this meant she was a horrible mother or rejecting him or something, but later found out it was normal. 'Must protect' trumps curiosity!

My great grandmother was a really dynamic and passionate woman who was felled by Alzheimer's. She was very confused by the end, but could still identify all the people who 'belonged' to her even if she was clueless how. A mind is a delicate thing...


	36. The Demiurge's Aegis

The Demiurge's Aegis_  
_

..

* * *

The party hurried from the ruins down towards the relative shelter of the woodlands. They were stopped briefly by a ghost, which Imoen hopped up to confront.

"You study this for errors!" she insisted, pulling out _The History of the Sisters of Light and Darkness_ and placing it in his ethereal fingertips. The ghost became incredibly excited, somehow successfully picking up the volume. "Right. I'll be back for it in the morning, don't you forget! That book is going to Candlekeep, mister."

The rest of the group shrugged at one another and then they continued on their way. Kivan and Xan shared a brief and affectionate clasp of each others' shoulders to demonstrate that each elf was glad to see the other. Then the ranger had joined their leader's side.

[You were absent for days,] he noted, and Aegis grinned down at him.

[What? Were you worried?] she asked the green-clad ranger.

Kivan scowled. [Clearing ahead. Fit for a camp.]

Viconia hurried up beside them. "Have you seen Dynaheir?" she asked, still breathing heavily from the fight. Kivan turned a baleful look on her and Viconia grimaced. "I don't want to fight you! There was an altercation, and I am just asking if she is safe!"

_An altercation? _Xan thought sourly. _An altercation you helped cause! _But he held his tongue for the time being.

Kivan seemed to accept the question with less hostility than would have been normal for him, but he addressed Aegis in elvish and looked away from Viconia as he answered. [They passed through yesterday. I led them free and returned to wait for you.]

Ajantis discretely grasped the drow woman's elbow and pulled her backwards, fixing her with a stern eye. It was hard to say whether Viconia was genuinely sorry or simply acting. Either way, Kivan's side was a bad place for her to be.

[Thank you. Means a lot,] Aegis answered the elf.

..

* * *

Kivan led them to make camp for the night. Party members gathered wood, took time to relieve themselves, laid out their palettes, stretched, and tried to relax. Most of them were desperate to get their armor off.

Xan and Aegis told Kivan what they'd seen below. When Edwin came up, Xan glanced at Aegis, who discretely explained that the conjurer had stuck his hand in a bee's nest with Dynaheir and most likely gotten what he'd deserved.

[Hnh. I see you failed to leave the drow and dwarf down in the warrens where they belong. Foolish.]

Aegis sighed. [Kivan, they-] Then she suddenly realized the ranger was smirking beneath his hood. [Is that a smile?] she asked incredulously. [Xan, look! Look, is that a smile? No, can't be! He smiles less than you!]

Kivan lowered his hood, but Xan was shorter than him and had low-light vision. [Why, I think it is,] the enchanter realized, awed.

[Oh. Sweet _Oghma_,] Aegis gasped out each syllable as if staggered. [He told a _joke_.]

[Preposterous!] Xan disagreed. [Kivan can't joke. It is a physical impossibility.]

Kivan's mouth was painfully fighting and losing the urge to grin.

[Oh he _cares_ about us!] Aegis cooed. [He likes us! He _missed_ us!]

Kivan growled and then hissed in surprise and alarm when Aegis hugged him. Of course, her hug absolutely lifted him clear off the ground. As burly as Kivan looked beside Xan, he was still much smaller than Aegis.

[Xan! We are keeping him!] Aegis insisted joyfully.

[Put me down!] the startled wild elf hissed, flailing.

[Pleeassee Xan?] Aegis laughed. [I need a mentor!]

[Put me down!] Kivan repeated, his hood coming down as he tried fruitlessly to free himself. He was surprisingly strong, Aegis realized when she had to keep an ironclad grip on him. Most likely the only reason she was able to accomplish holding on to him at all was because he was off the ground and had bad leverage.

Xan grinned. [Be careful, Aegis! He has plenty of skinning knives, and I am not certain he registers that this is _affection_ as opposed to an attempt to asphyxiate him.]

Aegis chuckled and eased Kivan down to his feet, earning a scowl from her favorite ranger as he dusted himself off. She reached up and picked a leaf out of his hair. He shot her an annoyed look. She beamed at him as innocently at Imoen had ever beamed at anyone. His shoulders slumped, and he gave a martyred sigh.

[I will accompany your group as you prepare for the bandits,] he told her.

Aegis blinked. [We just basically lost three members. It might take us a bit to regain our footing.]

He nodded curtly. [I know. I accept,] he retorted.

[And Viconia?]

Kivan gave them a somewhat patient expression which suggested he was prepared to make allowances but that there was only so much direct contact with the drow that he could take before he disappeared off into the woods again.

"Aegis!" came Viconia's shout as she rushed into the camp. The ranger woman blinked, turning to look at her.

"Speaking of Femme Fatales," Xan muttered. The drow was panting hard.

"It's Kagain and Ajantis!" Viconia heaved. "I have convinced Shar-Teel to stand out of it, but not for long!"

"What?!" Aegis exclaimed. "Show me!"

The drow nodded.

..

* * *

Neither Ajantis nor Kagain was amored, and both were carrying live steel. The two were bloodied by the time Aegis arrived. They were circling each other, shouting out verbal invective. Shar-Teel was just standing there, chewing on a sprig of wheat with her hands on her hips. She seemed mildly impressed, and Aegis could guess why. Anyone might have assumed that Ajantis would stick to high-brow insults, so the stream of filth coming out from both mens' mouths was certainly unexpected.

As their leader arrived, Ajantis took a swing at Kagain.

"Break it up!" she shouted. Ajantis pulled the shot but Kagain did not and the paladin barely managed to parry in time. "I _said_ BREAK IT UP!" Aegis boomed, stomping in between them and grabbing at both of their arms when they refused to back off. She had no armor on herself, but fortunately neither man was so far gone as to strike at her. She threw Ajantis backwards simply because he was easier to move, and then whirled on Kagain. "Enough!"_  
_

The dwarf growled. "This moron ain't deserving of the life his mother gave him!" he snapped. "Let me at him, I'mma shut that mouth real good and drive some sense to that head with my axe!"

"Kagain, stand _down_," Aegis warned, noticing that Kivan and Xan had been right behind her and Branwen and Imoen was also coming to investigate with Edwin in tow. "I am _not_ in the mood to be pushed."

"Yas warnings are hot air," he told her. "Yas ain't got what it takes to hit anyone proper, and yas ain't even armed."

Ajantis took a step backwards, wiping blood off of his trousers and wincing. "There is nothing decent about that hell-spawned bastard!" he exclaimed. "He reeks of evil and he cannot control his temper! This is not the first time we've come to blows!"

"Pretty boy threw the first punch," Shar-Teel vouched, flicking her wheat aside and sneering laughingly at the paladin. "Watched it myself."

Ajantis blushed. "He insulted my mentor, my father, my mother- my sisters-!"

"Whores and bastards!" Shar-Teel agreed enthusiastically.

"-in detail!" the paladin protested. "And spoke about how he wanted to rape and kill them all!"

"I don't fucking care!" Aegis roared. "Words you can't handle are an excuse to get the _hell_ out of this party. I _explicitly _told you that while you are with us, you can't rise to bait! Ajantis, you _swore_ to me: no infighting!"

"I threw a punch; he used an axe!" the paladin was clearly on the end of his rope. He had weathered through indignity after indignity, his roommate was a manipulative Sharite whom he nevertheless desperately wanted to believe could be redeemed, and Shar-Teel kept punching him for no apparent reason. He needed someone to give him some ground to stand on.

Aegis scowled and looked down at Kagain. "Leave off of him! He is just a _kid_," she told the dwarf accusingly.

"Aye, and a dumb one, set to become a dumb paladin screwin' in other peoples' business and sullying them's profits!" Kagain spat off to the side. "Throw the mamma's boy out before he speaks ta me again!"

"Let em fight!" Shar-Teel hooted, apparently oblivious or indifferent to all the reasons why this would be a terribly bad idea.

"Not a chance, on either count. Now both of you, stand down," Aegis told them. "Back off. Go to camp. Rest. Keep the hells away from each other." Ajantis looked ready to say something, but she raised her voice and talked straight over him. "And this is my final warning to _every one_. I will not tolerate another fight without acting. Not from you, not from Shar-Teel, not from Viconia or Xan, not from _anyone!_ This is _finished_ today." She looked to Ajantis. "Am I _clear_?" she hissed.

The paladin swallowed tightly. Then he muttered a curse and sheathed his sword, turning he stomp off towards camp. Viconia intercepted him after a few steps, touching his arm. She seemed more angry with him than concerned, and proceeded to say something about 'stupid jaluk' which he suffered through unspeaking.

Aegis turned to Kagain. "Clear?" she asked stonily. When he didn't immediately answer, her eyes narrowed and she stared him straight in the face. "I am not playing at threats, Kagain. I am at the end of my rope. Now, have I been clear?"

The dwarf grimaced. "Crystal," he growled. Aegis nodded and turned to start back to camp. "This sure is 'finished.'"

Aegis watched Kivan's weight drop, his hand reaching back rapidly for an arrow. Xan's eyes widened. "Ajantis!" Imoen called. A slow breath of air filled Aegis' lungs as her mind went blank with focus and her legs swiftly changed her momentum. She knew by intuition where she had left Kagain, and she could see where Ajantis was standing. Two steps. She got between them.

"AEGIS!" She heard Kivan loose his arrows

_Focus_.

There was a vibrant halo of green as something- a projectile?- struck Aegis _hard_ in the back. It hit her in the shoulder blade of her off-hand, cleaving down to the bone. But then the weapon rebounded. Aegis lurched from the hit and then whirled around to figure out what had happened. Then she realized that Kagain had _thrown_ his axe at Ajantis, and she had taken it in his stead. Her tunic was torn and blood blossomed down her back, slicking the vibrantly glowing _Protection from Evil_ sigil which Xzar had tattooed there.

Momentarily staggered, Aegis looked down at where the axe had fallen to the ground. Then she looked to Kagain, who had caught Kivan's arrows with his shoulder and forearm. The dwarf stepped back in surprised dismay because the axe blow obviously ought to have killed her, and she hadn't been his intended target. For a moment, the ranger woman's face was blank. She was thinking of whether or not Ajantis would have survived such a blow, even with Viconia right beside him. Probably not. It had been intended as a one-shot victory, and Kagain could have felled Aegis herself had it not been for her necromancer's protective gift.

"Aegis-" Kagain protested, glancing from her to where Kivan had another arrow knocked, Branwen had summoned her malus, and Xan was ready to cast.

Silence.

Then Aegis' mouth parted and she pounced down on the axe, grabbing it up in her hand. "_My turn_," she breathed, bolting towards the dwarf. He stumbled back from her with a curse, drawing a knife from his boot for defense. He wasn't prepared for how hard Aegis could hit while enraged.

..

* * *

The party stood in unified silence as Aegis slowly righted herself. She had sunk the axe in so deep on the last hack that it had become stuck. She decided to leave it there, standing up and breathing heavily. She turned slowly into their stares, her back slicked with blood and the edges of the _Protection from Evil_ just barely visible through her tattered clothing. Her trousers, face, and arms were all splattered with blood to; but that was not her own.

Imoen's eyes were wide and she had both hands over her mouth. Edwin, who had otherwise looked oblivious to everything, now appeared almost as if he were suffering from severe indigestion. At her gaze, he shrunk down behind Imoen. Shar-Teel was no longer laughing, and Xan was aghast.

Aegis shuddered, reaching up under her arm to touch her wound. Then she turned and walked up to a stunned Ajantis. She stopped inches in front of him, and stared the paladin down for a very long moment.

"What do you think?" she asked him at last, holding out her arms to showcase the gore. "Was it as noble and honorable as you had hoped?" Ajantis' lips parted, but no words came to him. Aegis shook her head. "Bury him," she told the man. "Bury the friend who died in your stead. The dwarf who braided my hair." Then she turned away, clutching at her wound and staggering towards camp.

Ajantis watched her go. Then he shakily moved to where the dwarf had fallen, murmuring prayers to Helm.

* * *

Aegis sat on a log just outside of the camp, shaking from adrenaline and looking down at her hands. Kivan was the one who reached her first, and she noted distantly that he acted almost exactly like Jaheira would have. He simply came up and jerked up the back of her shirt, rolled the fabric out of the way, and then felt along the wound.

She wasn't really _present_ enough to hear words, but she registered that Kivan shouted out something behind him. Then Xan and Branwen must have joined her second, because she soon felt the soothing effects of healing energy being artfully applied to her gouged rib bones and cleaved muscles.

"Aegy? Aegis?" She lifted her gaze to see Imoen there. The other girl was gently touching her face and pushing stray curls behind her ears. "Are you okay?"

Aegis blinked slowly. "Yeah," she said after a moment. "Or, I will be."

"I thought you were going to die! We all thought you were going to die! You deflected a flying axe! A _Protection from Evil_ did _that_!?"

Aegis thought about the question. "I miss Xzar," was all she said, and then she lifted a hand to rub her face and was horrified to find tears there. She quickly smothered them away, hoping the group wouldn't see this and think she was crazy. More came, and she snarled in frustration. "Did I do the right thing?" she asked, confused by the what the tears meant.

Kivan grasped her shoulder firmly. "You are young, but this is a world where questions like those often have no answers," he told her.

She touched his fingers, feeling a kinship with the elf she did not really understand but, at that moment, truly needed.

"That doesn't mean they shouldn't be asked," he added.

..

* * *

Shar-Teel ended up helping Ajantis bury Kagain. Viconia watched awkwardly for awhile before throwing up her hands and coming to help. The three were uncharacteristically quiet when they regained the camp, and Shar-Teel was remarkably civil. By then, Aegis' support group had successfully tidied her up, and there was no hint of tears on her face; important when facing down two of the most morally challenged women in the party.

The party was quiet in a uncomfortable and introspective way; _not_ in the peaceful way which Ajantis or even Xan might have imagined. That evening the group did not chatter much. Branwen went to bed early. When Xan joined her but merely sat beside her to think, she threw an arm about his hips and dragged him over to her, and then tried to sleep like that. Xan looked down in surprise, his thoughts disrupted.

"Got a question for you," the cleric muttered. "If I restrain Edwin and Aegis restrains Imoen, should we or should we not cover Imoen's eyes when you put your Moonblade through his breast?"

Xan frowned, because that _did_ actually make him feel guilty. He was also concerned for Aegis' sake, given both her heritage and her now thoroughly cracked innocence. "I do not like how everyone is ignoring the seriousness of his threats, out of pity for him. Or even out of pity for her. Dynaheir needs someone to stand up for her well-being."

"Tell me what happened," Branwen suggested. "In the detail Dyn shared with you. Not just the summary."

Elsewhere, Imoen was distracting a somewhat unsettled looking Edwin with sleight of hand. His distress was slowly dissolving into annoyance and begrudged interest. Shortly afterward, he forgot why he was supposed to be annoyed, too.

..

* * *

It was nearly dawn when Imoen began squirming from a nightmare. Her writhing woke up her companion. He shook her shoulder and, when that did not work, he remembered a trick involving pulling her hair. One sharp yank and Imoen jerked awake, breathing heavily and looking around the camp.

Everything was still. Kivan was on watch and appeared to be sitting beside Aegis' bedroll with a hand on her. The sight was bizarrely touching, although Imoen did not experience the same familiarity in Kivan's presence that Aegis did. Kivan glanced at Imoen to make sure she was alright. Seeing it had been a nightmare, he turned away respectfully.

After a moment of collecting herself, Imoen looked back down at Edwin. He was watching her face questioningly. {Monkey is okay?} he asked, petting her slightly.

She nodded and settled back down into place. {Dream,} she told him.

{What kind?} he asked, shifting so that his shoulder didn't fall asleep under her head.

{The bad kind.} He scowled, irritated with such a useless answer. Then he sighed as he had little ability to comprehend a real answer anyway. Imoen smiled. {The kind where terrible things happen to people I care about, and there's nothing I can do,} she confessed, thinking about Edwin, Dynaheir, Montaron, and Aegis.

Imoen had never had anyone on 'her side' die before, except Gorion. Even though Kagain had nearly killed Ajantis, watching Aegis split his head open had been tremendously... un-fun.

He didn't quite understand, but he appreciated being told something more material than 'the bad kind.' After a moment of thought he lifted his arm up around her curled form, and rested his fingertips in her braided hair. His nails traced gently over the interwoven locks as he watched the fading stars.

{I know what you were thinking with Dynaheir,} Imoen thought aloud. {You were thinking that if she attacked you first, and you killed her in defense, that I would forgive you and blame her. You were trying to figure out how to complete your task so that I would still let you tutor me.}

The Thayvian looked at her again.

{But it doesn't work like that,} Imoen sighed. {And now you're going to end up leaving anyway. You are an idiot, and you do not understand how friendship works at all.}

{Monkey not my mother,} he told her crossly, which made Imoen giggle.

{Suuurrre,} she teased, squeezing him lightly.

_"Tam," _he insisted sternly, easing a second arm around her. {Not.}

..

* * *

Edwin was not entirely sure he was alright with the deadly razor blade Imoen was holding near his throat.

But considering he had had needed help with everything else from putting his shoes on, to eating, to going to the bathroom that morning, he was inclined to submit to her wisdom. He fidgeted a bit until she finally coaxed him to stillness. Then the familiar sensation of metal over his skin helped him register what was happening.

"And now you're _shaving_ for the bastard?" Shar-Teel asked, irritated.

"Yes," Imoen told her with heavy-lidded eyes and a mischievous smirk. "I like to keep my pet man-whores looking tidy." She was lucky Edwin did not appear to be capable of understanding anything other than his mother tongue, or this joke would have earned her a throttling.

That got the first laugh out of the fightress since the evening before. "You're a bratty pink little varmint, but you're alright," she said of the thief.

Branwen watched the shaving for a moment, trying to figure out what this seemed strange to her. It took her several moment of concentration, but then she sat up straight. "Elves don't grow facial hair!" she realized, as she had never seen Xan shave.

Xan gaped at her for a moment over breakfast. Then he swallowed his food. "Elves... elves do not have _any_ noticeable body hair," he reminded her.

Branwen blinked slowly. "I though there was something I should have noticed at the spring, but honestly I mustn't have been looking... You were kind of upset at the time; I was distracted."

Xan stared at her for a moment. Then he smiled and scooted up close beside her to eat. Branwen might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she was definitely had a big heart.

"I noticed," Shar-Teel called from where she was chewing on a few sticks of jerky. "It was sorta unnatural really. Smooth as a baby's bottom, not even any wrinkles on the-"

Branwen calmly dropped her breakfast and covered Xan's ears, because he was cringing and twitching violently. "Excuse me," the cleric said loudly. "We are trying to _eat_."

"You guys brought it up!" the fightress complained, but at least everyone was in a slightly better mood than they'd been in the night before.

Imoen rolled her eyes and went back ensuring her companion was properly groomed. It felt reassuring to do something simple and mundane for another person. Fortunately for her sake, Feebleminded Edwin was not averse to human contact. Nor was he as surly as the full version, for that matter.

When she was done, she combed his hair and then realized it came down to just past his neck, and needed to be cut. Instead, she braided it loosely and stole a red colored ribbon from Aegis to tie it off with. Perfect! His hair was thick and wavy, and she was incredibly glad she had managed to keep him from shaving it off.

He frowned suspiciously as she tied off the braid, and then reached up his nails to feel what she had done. He scowled. {Let see!} he demanded

{You look fine,} she assured him.

He did not believe her, and so pouted until she eventually managed to produce a mirror. Then he preened so extensively that his companion had to cover her mouth to smother her giggles. He wetted his fingertips on his tongue to smooth back stray hairs and align his goatee. He fussed at the loose and unfamiliar style of braid most of all.

{You do realize you wear a hood, right? So your hair can't really be... _seen_.}

He rolled his eyes; as if that mattered! He was nobility, and he would not look the part of some common hedge-wizard! Or something. He wasn't really clear on the details, but he _did_ know what he ought to look like!

{Peacock,} she teased.

..

* * *

Aegis came back from paying quiet respects at Kagain's cairn as Kivan scouted the paths ahead of them. "We're heading out in half an hour," she told them. "We'll do our best to avoid bandits and enter Beregost in disguise and in several groups again."

"What about Edwin?" Xan asked, coming up to her.

Aegis placed her hands on her hips. "What's your suggestion?" Imoen blinked and got up, coming over to listen. "Ah, nothing from you right now, Bubbles. Let him talk."

Xan took in a slow breath and then nodded. "We could leave him in Beregost or at the temple. There is work enough to be found for a drudge, one supposes. He is not our responsibility, and he forfeited the bulk of our protection by going after Dynaheir."

"Yeah," Aegis agreed. "Okay. Imoen, Edwin's out of the party once we arrive."

"Kay," the pink girl understood. "I'll just give him a potion outside the temple."

"Ah," Xan realized the problem. "Imoen, listen to me-"

"I've promised Edwin I won't abandon him," the thief told him. "And I _won't_. I'm not interested in what you have to say."

Xan looked at Aegis. "Please permit me to enact a demonstration." Aegis lifted a brow but then shrugged and nodded. Xan stepped back and began to cast. Imoen's brow furrowed. Then she stumbled backwards.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "Wait!" Then the _Hold Person_ spell had rocketed into her, and she was frozen solid.

"Xan," Aegis growled, but the enchanter held up his hands placatingly and then came up behind Imoen, tugged down her hood, eased her hair out of the way, leaned very close, and began tracing his fingers over her arms. He began to tell her the worst parts of Edwin's story, as faithfully as he was able to remember them. Aegis winced in realization of what had happened.

Xan was only a few lines into the story when Edwin pounced on the enchanter, unbalancing him and shoving him angrily off to the side. Xan caught his footing and scowled as the conjurer got between him and Imoen with a hiss. _"Rewi! Tam a'wy djereta!" _Edwin told him, though the only available translator was currently paralyzed._  
_

"I-I- _Damn _this man!" the enchanter exclaimed. "Even when he is lame, he is somehow manipulative! But I _will_ expose him for what he has done!

_"Tam! Ma'wy djereta Kwefai'tsha!"_

Aegis grimaced and slowly rounded her sister and Edwin both to come up beside Xan. "So I don't speak Mulhorandi, and I surely don't speak dumb Mulhorandi, but that was obviously the disabled Edwin version of: 'Get your hands off of my girlfriend.' Er, I mean, 'monkey.' Sorta ironic, given who you're copying..."

Xan nearly leaped out of his skin. "Girlfriend!?" he protested. "How can you use such vocabulary even in jest?! At a time like this!?"

Aegis shrugged tiredly, because this had not been a spectacular conclusion to Ulcaster on _any_ count and she didn't need anyone to remind her. "Stress relief? Continue your description of this story. Imoen and I are listening, and we are now definitely aware it was both creepy and terrifying."

Xan was quiet for a moment and then nodded. It was as Branwen had advised him. He took in a deep breath and then provided his testimony in full. Finally, they were no longer dealing with summaries and assumptions; and Imoen could hear the damning evidence properly.

..

* * *

When they were not far outside of Beregost, Aegis stopped the group to count heads. "Alright. We need to deliver most of the loot to Thalantyr tomorrow, so we'll be heading out at dawn. Take the rest of the day to relax. Talk to me or Imoen if you have concerns. Speaking of Imoen... sis, where are you headed right now?"

The pink girl had been missing her usual chipper disposition when she'd picked up _The History of the Darkness_ from the ghost of Ulcaster that morning. She had also walked most of the journey back to Beregost in uncharacteristic silence, although she certainly hadn't abandoned the helpless Red Wizard. In fact, Imoen had been leading Edwin by the elbow for the last hour or so. He had been repeatedly opening and closing a jar of apricots, with a frown of intense concentration crinkling his brow.

In any event, when Aegis called on her, Imoen lifted her head and answered: "The Song of the Morning. It's still the right thing to do."

Xan sighed quietly but nodded. "I worry at times your nobility will doom you." Still, they did not live in a black and white world, and Dynaheir's defense had been given its proper treatment. At least it appeared that while Edwin was to be repaired, he would no longer have Imoen's untempered allegiance.

The thief shrugged. "Dyn's a bright lady; if she can't figure out I'd un-dumb Edwin, than I'd be really, really surprised. I'll trust her to lie low and stay safe."

"I shall accompany you to glower disapprovingly at him, then" the elf decided, moving over to Viconia to magically disguise her for Beregost.

"I'll come," Aegis agreed. "Alright. Viconia, Ajantis, and Shar-Teel. Pick a tavern and get in with your hoods down. And keep an eye on each other, please. Three people is a hell of a lot harder to take down than one."

"Got it mom," Shar-Teel answered, an interesting choice of words at present. She didn't even seem particularly hostile. "Promise not to punch any pretty boys while I'm at it."

Ajantis had been doing some soul-searching on the route back to Beregost, and gave no response other than to nod quietly. Aegis clasped the paladin's shoulder briefly and then turned down the road to the Temple. Kivan picked the butt of his longbow from the ground and followed swiftly on her heels; Branwen, of course, followed Xan.

The fightress watched them go and then gave Ajantis a heft pat on the back. "Come on stupid kid, let's get some alcohol in you."

..

* * *

_Although Blackstaff Tower typically had fifty apprentices at any particular point in time, this did not detract from the privacy Khelben easily created on his personal levels. _

_From the outside, the tower appeared but three stories tall. Within, the exact count of floors was currently at twenty-four, although half of them were not currently in use. __ All of the floors were accessible from the 'same' central stairwell, but none could be reached without the proper command words and magical know-how.  
_

_About two decades ago an apprentice, who will remain unnamed, had realized that while magical conditions such as Silence could never make use of this setup, there were perhaps less conventional means of causing mayhem. This unnamed apprentice experimentally ensured his mentor contracted a severe case of laryngitis one morning._

_Afterwards, a cabinet of common medical remedies had been installed in the tower's default 'holding' floor. Obviously, the apprentice and his sugar glider were found out and ended up scrubbing floors for weeks afterwards. _

_This was the same time frame in which Khelben Blackstaff began inviting the young Gorion to play chess with him on weekends. Obviously these two things were _completely unrelated_ and _pure coincidence_; and they did not demonstrate that pranking one's mentor was a good way to showcase one's outstanding cleverness. At all. Ever._

_Very well, they proved that _if_ one was going to prank one's mentor into being trapped in their own home, then one ought to show up very apologetically with a cup of ginger tea no more than an hour later, and admit to everything._

_As almost everything in the tower was isolated and soundproofed, this meant Gorion had little to no warning that Elminster was in Waterdeep prior to the archmagi barging through the doors of his guest 'suite' one sunny afternoon._

_Gorion was actually far across the suite, sitting beside the porcelain bathroom tub and spooning water gently over his daughter's head with a seashell. She was holding a cloth ducky excitedly in one hand and waving it about clumsily as she kicked and gurgled happily at each rush of water. He was careful not to get any in her eyes._

_At the loud bang she jumped slightly, and Gorion twisted about to look out the bathroom door. He could hear shouting: __"Absolutely irresponsible and- Gorion! I demand to see this child at once!"_

_The younger wizard sneered, but the last place he wanted to be caught angry was in the bathroom with his daughter; he had always possessed a strong affinity towards ice magic and now it almost seemed as if his power had a life of its own. He didn't put himself above accidentally freezing something. _

_Gorion leaned over and scooped her swiftly out of the tub, grabbing up a towel to dry her off with. She made a displeased mumble and put the wing of her cloth ducky into her mouth. He kissed her nose and she gave a big smile around the ducky wing, her nose wrinkling. Aegis had started smiling a month after he'd brought her to the tower._

_Gorion took in a slow breath as he finished toweling Aegis' hair. Then he stepped out of the bathroom and headed towards the commotion. "I'm here," he called. "What's so important that it's worth interrupting bath time over?" He paused in the doorway of the master bedroom and then lifted a brow_

_Khelben was interposed between himself and two other Chosens. The first was of course Elminster, at whose head Khelben was very angrily pointing the butt of his staff. The other was Esmerae, the enchantress. "Gorion, don't bother," the lord of the tower growled. "I will handle this."_

_"We have heard this story in full now," Elminster said. "What madness possesses both of you!?" Gorion thought that was an unfairly loaded and terribly insensitive question. "Show me what you have done; show us this _monster_ you've taken in, that we can assess the danger it presents!"_

_Gorion lifted a brow, looking down at where his daughter was squirming inquisitively at all the loud noises. "Ehrm. The one gumming on a yellow, cloth ducky?" he asked. "I don't know, she looks incredibly busy. We may not want to disturb her. She could decide this is a good time to go potty, and I just had these robes washed..."_

_"This is not the time for jokes," Esmerae murmured, dismayed. For his part, Elminster looked quite startled by this rebuke. He glanced to the bundle Gorion was holding, and then uncertainly at Khelben. His expression suggested he was trying to figure out what he had missed. _

_"Both of you are wearing on my very last nerve," Khelben warned them. "That we are all Chosen by the Lady of Magic does not make_ anything_ of mine also yours. Nor does our past friendships or our collaboration over the Bhaalspawn. You _will_ heed me in my own home."__  
_

_"I will talk to them if that will make things easier," Gorion offered slowly, lifting a hand to play with Aegis' feet. Of all the people he wanted privacy from, the two other Chosens most certainly topped his list. Yet they were also the only two people he likely could not avoid speaking with; they were too powerful. _

_"It's getting to be a matter of principle," Khelben grumbled, lowering his staff. "Speak your part, Elminster, but conserve your judgement. I am _not_ in a good mood today."_


	37. Professional Opinion

Professional Opinion

* * *

The necromancer wormed uncomfortably, unable to sleep. The autumn air was thick and cool that evening, creeping under fabric with its icy tendrils. After a moment, he reached up to the headboard and pulled the Candlekeep cloak down on top of him. It must have been his imagination, but he swore it still smelled like her.

The cloak did the trick, however, and within minutes he was quite comfortably warm. Xzar wagered there was quite a spot of mundane magic embedded in that cloth; and similar cloaks would have fetched him a fortune around Moonsea. He was awake now, though, so he called on a light cantrip and hauled his spellbook up onto his pillow.

"Gods _damn_ ye, wizard, put that _out_! YE been squirmin' like a pig all evenin' but ain't mean I deserve to suffer with ye!"

Xzar sneered across the dark room at where he knew his 'companion' to be. Hate was not an accurate descriptor for the wizard's feelings; that was what Xzar _normally_ felt towards the Cyrites whom he served, worked with, and commanded. Overwhelming, aching, continuous hatred.

He fit in well enough as he was needed, and his collaborations had proved remarkably successful even whilst he was in the depths of madness (Cyrites hardly minded _that_, now did they?). But beneath it all was always hate: simmering calmly and waiting.

Montaron needed a whole new _special_ emotion defined just for him. Something _like_ hatred, but with the additions of inconvenience, annoyance, pity (for the less mentally fortunate) and of course a scathing and overbearing _frustration _with the cage the halfling both represented and reinforced.

"Suffer? I'm sure you deserve to suffer," Xzar noted.

"So many places I'd godsdamned rather be than this room right now," the halfling growled.

"And I, insipid _friend_, could think of so many places I'd rather be than running repetitive missions alone with you. Like the end of a hangman's noose or immersed in a vat of black dragon saliva..."

The halfling laughed darkly. "They ain't ever gonna let ye slip me, fool. They can tell yer bitin' at the bit and it's makin' em squint curious, now it is. What's the mad wizard want? they wonder. What's his game?"

Xzar scowled. "It is your fault I have need to dispose of you in the first place," he muttered, making a tent from the cloak about his head and elbows. "I have a solution: I shall kill you, jam some other spirit into your corpse, bring the both of you back to life, and then send you off on a mad stabbing spree directed at all of your superiors... You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Montaron opened an eye and sighed, irritated that he was about to actually launch anything _other_ than invective the wizard's way. But Xzar had been fussy, and Montaron knew well enough why. "Ye can't sleep cause ye want a woman, fool, like any other man o' flesh. I'd say to go seduce one but, since yer face is ugly as sin, I'll say three gold'll get a lass ta scratch that itch for ye real quick."

Xzar looked haughtily indignant, and the halfling laughed bitterly at his facial expression.

"What? Go downstairs and have the pick of the litter. Hopefully ye'll throttle her halfway through and get lynched by a mob right proper for a man of your profession..."

Xzar rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Unlike _some_ people, I don't get excited over gap-toothed graceless pillars of flesh, just because they are dripping bags of swollen fat tissues in a suggestively fertile manner."

"What the-? The _hell_ is wrong with liking a woman's breasts, exactly? And that maid had a cute grin!"

"That was _no maid_," Xzar intoned with a disdainful grimace.

"Yer kiddin' me. The _necromancer_ wants women smellin' fresh and unused? 'Druther a personality and a bit of spark in the eyes. Ya know, something I don't want to smother with a pillow." Then he realized he was having an _almost_ reasonable conversation with the wizard and he grimaced in disgust.

"Well! Apparently my _smothering threshold_ is higher than yours," the wizard retorted. "Now hush, toad, and let me study. It soothes the nerves well enough."

Buffered by ten other party members, it had been easy for Montaron to pay no attention to Xzar. Now, partnered up alone with him again and investigating the caravans from Waterdeep, the necromancer's changes were glaringly obvious. It seemed Xzar had shaken significant signs of madness.

Xzar had never been an _incompetent_ imbecile, Montaron knew. The necromancer had been aggravatingly successful in all his pursuits since his 'release.' He'd been welcomed by the ranks of wizards. And he had climbed hand over foot, crossing the bodies of every incompetent peer, rival, or obstacle that he could find. He had wrested back power, trust, and fear with every clenched grasp.

Aye, _that_ was the rub: The madman who babbled about rabbits and gold was _respected!_ Was enough to drive any man mad! A wizard prone to hysteria, raving, and tantrums had some _authority,_ where Montaron had none! But Xzar was unpredictable, flighty, and not entirely trustworthy; and Montaron knew not to bite the hand that fed him. Which meant Montaron was little more than a babysitter for the madman, and he both knew and hated it.

But now something was different. Xzar was collected, calm, and even quiet at times. His head still wandered, but he rarely seemed to get lost. He watched everything with an uncanny acuteness. It was eerie, and concerned the halfling. _Nothing to be done for it yet, though. Soon enough though, alright. Soon enough._ Montaron rolled over and tried to get some sleep

..

* * *

Xzar was midway through turning a page when a sudden, unpleasant, and bizarre sensation overcame him. He had felt something... similar... before. It was an empty feeling, a drained feeling. It took him a moment to match the sensations. Then he sat bolt upright, frantically trying to summon up positive energy.

None came!

A panicked flutter burst through his chest. _No. Not again. Not again, not again, not again! _He surged out of bed, scrambling up to the window an unlatching it to get some fresh air. _No doubt she's just exerted herself. That has to be it. That needs to be it! Her power is only weak and limited at present!_

He clutched the window frame, shaking and nauseous. He did not move for quite some time, trying to steady himself by any means. He thought of every bone, muscle, vein, and organ in the human body. He did addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. He mentally calculated geometric problems, recited history, and recalled literature.

At long last, when the sun was peeking over the forests in the distance, he realized just how long he had been standing there at the window. Nervously, he murmured in the old tongue for a spell of _Divine Shield_. A rush blew through him, like wind in an old cavern. He caught up a strangled breath, as a red and golden gleam rushed protectively up around him.

Then he loosed the breath hard, dragging in air through relieved half-sobs for several moments. When he could move, he stumbled and collapsed back to a seat upon his bed. He sat there with his forearms draped over his thighs, and occasionally wiped his face.

Damn Montaron. If the little fool had possessed but an iota of loyalty to _anything_, or if he'd stopped to consider the future for even a moment, Xzar could have been alongside _her _that very moment! Now he was helpless; so close and yet so far; and there was nothing immediately available for him to do to change the situation!

Xzar looked at the golden and red gleam swimming around him. His thoughts dissolved from the practical and went down a thousand different routes; some old and some new. Then a shudder took him and he dropped his head into his hands, crying silently.

..

* * *

Kelddath greeted them warmly as _his_ intrepid group of adventurers and asked what he could do for them. But when Imoen explained what had happened, he realized he was dealing with no mundane affliction. He bad Imoen sit the injured wizard down as he conducted his examination and attempted to discern what the heart of the matter was.

At last he drew back in surprise, rubbing his chin. "This... this is no simple enchantment," he observed at last. "This condition itself seems permanent, and sealed in place with a curse."

"Can you fix it?" Imoen asked.

Kelddath hesitated. "Tell me..." he said slowly. "Does this man have any nefarious intents?"

"Uh," Imoen answered. Xan couldn't help a dry chuckle. "It would be more informative if I answered that he does occasionally have intents which are _not_ nefarious."

"You are aware that Lathander disapproves of inaction which permits evil to fester?" the priest asked.

"Didn't see you complaining when he was helping you de-petrify people," Imoen rolled her eyes. "Though, ya know, if that's the way it is, I'm sure my sizable payment for services at the Temple of Umberlee would also result in some festering evil."

Kelddath raised a brow at her, but he had seen enough distraught persons with damaged comrades in his life to recognize concern as separate from hostility. Branwen coughed to remind Imoen they were in a gigantic temple to Lathander.

"Sorry for being snippy. Can you help him?" Imoen repeated the query.

"No," Kelddath answered, seeming slightly surprised by the answer and shaking his head. "Whoever did this to him put tremendous power behind the blow. The only reason he has even survived is because_ something_ interceded to shield him from the brunt of the force. But the remaining curse is like an impact crater, a brand; burning with the willpower of some incredibly angry foes."

Imoen's eyes widened. "Survived?" she glanced back at Xan. "They were trying to _kill_ him?"

"It seems so," Kelddath confirmed. "The wound tells the story of a spear thrust that was opposed before it could reach its conclusion. With my companions and acolytes, I could come close to approximating this kind of raw power, but, no, I cannot quite overwhelm it."

"Well- um- what _can_ be done?" Imoen asked nervously.

"You may be able to get the kind of help you will need in Baldur's Gate, and most certainly in Waterdeep. The fee will be steep. And depending on who you are willing to fund, it might be difficult to get help for a Red Wizard."

Aegis crossed her arms over her chest, thinking. Imoen was quiet a moment before asking: "Is there any way to weaken the curse or something, to make it easier to cure?"

A smirk flickered on the priest's lips. "A Wychlaran might know," he answered dryly. "Let me convene with the Sirines."

* * *

"They were trying to kill him?" Imoen protested, whirling on Xan as she pulled out her potion bag. The enchanter sighed.

"_Dynaheir_ was not trying to kill him," Xan answered. "But when Edwin stepped in to strike her, her coven apparently decided he needed to be stopped at all costs. They went over her head. Dynaheir only ever wanted to leave in peace."

"Well... that... does sound like Dyn," Imoen admitted, who well recalled that Dynaheir's very first solution to Edwin had been to burn his spellbook to send him home unharmed.

Aegis chuckled and when the party glanced at her she shrugged. "She probably even felt really guilty about it afterwards," the ranger noted. "That's Dynaheir for you. Are you giving him a potion now?"

Imoen nodded, drawing out one of the vials. Edwin, who had been zoned out staring off at the pillars, perked up immediately at the sight of the little bottle. {Sparkles!} he realized joyfully, clutching at Imoen's sleeves.

"You sure you don't want to keep him this way?" Branwen teased. "He's much nicer, I think!"

Imoen laughed. "Don't let him hear you say that! _Tiwu, tiwu, rodi Kwefai wuched a'ta!" _She plopped into the seat beside him, uncorked the bottle, and then got it securely into his trembling fingertips. He drank it swiftly and then covered his face, reeling from the instant headache. She rubbed his shoulder.

"Cranky dragon incoming in three... two...!"

"One," the Thayvian muttered, lifting his head and squinting in the temple lighting. He perked up slightly as his mind gathered together where they were, and then he looked worriedly to Imoen. "I am under the effects of a potion," he noted quickly, "but not cured."

"Kelddath says he can't fix it!" Imoen complained. "He says the coven's hit ought to have obliterated you and you're lucky to be alive!"

Edwin tensed slightly. Then an angry expression drew his brows together. "And you _fools_ condemned me for trying to interrupt her casting!?" he glared at Xan. "Would you prefer I had lain down and _let_ them kill me!?"

Xan took in a slow breath, but it was Imoen had answered: "Oh shut up ass-face. It would have totally been much harder for them to murder you at range in the first place. And in the second place, Dyn just wanted you incapacitated _briefly. _The coven freaked out when you came at her with your arm on fire and a Lemure in the room."

Edwin glared at her. "She called on the help of twelve powerful, jaded women who aren't used to being questioned._ All_ of whom _most_ _likely_ would have insisted on killing a Red Wizard anyway! Why does the fact that I tried to save my own hide somehow change that? I but verbally harassed her and she responded with the most powerful form of magic she knows!"

"Oh _boy_ does this argument sound familiar," Aegis muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, just because people _shouldn't_ murder each other over words, doesn't mean you can say whatever the hell you want and claim innocence of wrongdoing."

"Yeah," Imoen agreed. "That had to have been incredibly traumatizing. _I _was traumatized when Xan decided a reenactment was the best way to get his point across to me."

"I'll tell you what: next time I want to start a camp fire, I will call on a unit of Red Wizards to empower my _Burning Hands_!" the Thayvian snarled. "You think a dozen Jaheiras would have been turned aside for an instant in murdering Xzar to protect Aegis!?"

Xan stepped forward. "Everything changes with the _simple_ fact that you have _always_ insisted you will one day murder Dynaheir!" he snapped. "Everyone else can be turned aside from murder but you!"

"You-!" Edwin snarled, taloned fingers clutching angrily at the air as if he wanted to throttle the elf. Abruptly he paused and blinked a moment. Then he looked at Imoen. "Xan did _what_ to you?" he asked in a completely different tone of voice.

Despite herself, Aegis broke out laughing.

* * *

"Are you insane!?"

Aegis settled down beside her sister, watching as the two wizards shouted and gesticulated angrily at one another. Kivan and Branwen looked to the two sisters worriedly, but Aegis waved a hand to indicate it would be fine. Edwin had no spells prepared, after all.

"Me!?" Xan exclaimed incredulously. "I was merely showing her actions of _yours_!"

"From hold spells, to emotional manipulations, to charms- every time a party member is doing something which displeases you, you resort to enchantment as a means of getting your way!" the Thayvian was shouting. "It is like you have no clue how to solve social problems by any other means!"

Xan's face screwed up with incredulity, as this accusation was so incredibly unexpected (particularly from Edwin) that he didn't even know where to _begin_ defending himself. "I will not listen to _you_ lecture me on social matters!" the elf managed to get out in a strangled voice.

"No, you _will_ listen to me! This conflict is between myself and Dynaheir, and you had no business misdirecting any of it onto _someone else_!"  


"As if you are somehow opposed to harming bystanders!? You, you who solves every problem by lobbing fire!?"

"I do not use enchantment to force nineteen year old _children_ to sit still for me! I certainly do not use enchantments to force_ unwilling girls_ into playing the _victim_ in acts of simulated psychological warfare!"

"You are chastising me for unveiling unforgivable actions _you_ committed!? She deserved to see what you had done to Dynaheir!" Aegis and Imoen glanced at each other. Branwen raised a brow. Edwin threw his arms up in anger.

"You are saying that repeating my 'unforgivable' actions onto an uninvolved person was valid, all because I had done them first onto an involved person?! Those words were not for her ears, like curse words are not for infants! I also do not bring home _whores_ to fuck in front of her, either! What is the _matter_ with you!?"

"I was not _repeating,_ I was _demonstrating_! She is an adult! She made the decision to defend you with none of the evidence against you clearly presented. You are a _monster_ and she needed to know that!"

"No! I will _NOT_ argue my own credentials here, I will _NOT _accept your attempts to discredit my statements by throwing an ancient war between Red Wizards and Rashemi in the way! I am not arguing that I am faultless; I am telling you that you are a pitiless tyrant yourself when it pleases you!"

Xan snarled, advancing on him. "Dynaheir is a good woman, and innocent of any intention to harm _you_ or yours-!"

"Over a week ago, you dominated the mind of your party member. You _entered the mind_ of your ally, and took over control of her bodily functions. You walked her downstairs while she fought against you for control of her limbs. You put disgusting materials on her; you had her dump the shit and offal and piss of a dozen drunkards and slobs all over herself, and then you attempted to subject her to an act of sexual molestation by putting her into proximity to me!"

Xan jerked backwards. "_You_ asked me to do it _nud_e next time-!"

"This is not about _me_. This is about you, and how you think you have the right to do whatever pleases you because you are somehow unbiased, objective, and morally enlightened!" he hissed. "Numerous times, you have cast spells to manipulate the emotional states of your party members in order to control their actions."

"Most of the time, I was using _Calm Emotions_ on you to prevent you from attacking Imoen!"

"I have smacked, shouted at, insulted, scratched, grappled with, spit at, cussed out, and threatened Imoen ten thousand times since I came into this party, and I have _never once _cast_ any_ spell on her or genuinely harmed her. I have _always_ pulled up short. I have _certainly _never compelled her into anything!"

"Then my _Calm Emotions_ clearly worked!"

"Really? You were not there when she poured two tumbler-fulls of wine over my head, or stole my spellbook out of my hands when I was pinned under a rock, yet I did not burn her face off or seize control of her thoughts! Yet in a simple disagreement with Viconia over necromancy, you charmed the drow and forced her to 'behave' as you deemed proper. You were grossly irresponsible with your power over her, and caused her to engage in an undesired act of intimacy with the paladin!"

"I- you- she was making a mockery of a- I had no idea she was going to kiss Ajantis-!"

"You routinely read the minds of your party members, which I have observed that even your closest companion has repeatedly told you is inappropriate, and which it is high time you _stopped_!"

"How do you even know that!?" Xan was dismayed.

"You paralysed the entire party at the springs in some kind of accidental _fit_, where it is only by some miracle that none of us drowned or murdered one another! Do you realize that this- this _wild elf_ reached the springs while we were all paralysed and apparently did not notice that I was frozen looking up at the cliff face, so I saw him stand there for several minutes staring at Viconia, wondering if he should push her into the water!?"

Kivan blinked in surprise. Aegis raised a brow. Xan gaped like a fish.

"Do you realize the only reason I didn't knock Dynaheir over so she'd drown when my contingency disabled my own paralysis is because Imoen found me first?" The pink thief in question blinked, finally standing up. All of this was starting to get weirdly out of hand.

"How the _hell_ is that somehow _my_ fault!?" Xan exclaimed.

"Okay, both of you, this is getting absurd," Aegis said, getting up and getting between the two men. Imoen joined her, and Branwen tried to get to Xan.

Edwin scoffed past them. "At _least_ I can be counted upon only to harm the people I specify! My enemies!" Edwin snarled. "You use your magics against people you claim as allies! When I want to control something, I make a foothold in it. When you want to control someone, you hook puppet strings into their head!" Imoen took hold of his arm.

"This conversation is _insane_!" the enchanter shrieked as Branwen grabbed him around the middle and tried to tug him backwards. "And it stops now, or I will charm _you_ next!"

"Hey!" Imoen exclaimed. "Stop it, both of you!"

Edwin stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin. "I'm sure you will," he responded with an angry smirk, his point demonstrated.

"Edwin!" Imoen insisted he stop.

"You are an inflammatory_ thug_ who sows discord through provocative slander and twisting lies, with no further justification for your actions than blind ambition and fallacious patriotism!"

"Xan!" Imoen was getting upset, and Aegis was on the verge of ordering both wizards away from one another.

"It seems our elf can't take criticism," Edwin grinned. "Only dish it out." Xan was absolutely livid.

Imoen whirled on Edwin and grabbed him by the hood, yanking his head down. Edwin stumbled slightly and looked at her. "Kagain is _dead_!"

Edwin blinked, confused. He vaguely remembered that this was familiar, but was uncertain exactly how it should filter into their present conversation. "What?" Xan stopped up short of saying anything further, equally startled by the sudden interjection. Aegis twisted about to look at her sister.

"Kagain is dead!" Imoen repeated. "Because of a fight! Because he tried to kill someone else! I watched Aegis hack him to pieces, I had horrible nightmares about you dying, I am really upset right now, you are my best friend, you are provoking my other best friend, you want to kill my other good friend, you are going to leave, you are injured, I'm upset, I'm sick of this, I'm really, really, really, really upset, and YOU BOTH NEED TO STOP FIGHTING RIGHT NOW!"

Xan was dismayed. He looked up at Branwen, trying to figure out if he was somehow to blame for Imoen's distress. He still wasn't exactly sure what had just happened, or why Edwin had gone off on him. The cleric shook her head and kissed his temple reassuringly.

Edwin frowned in surprise as he examined his pink companion. There were tears in her eyes and her lower lip was trembling. His first thought was that she was being ridiculous; if anyone ought to be upset at the moment it ought to have been _himself_. He was the one living in a state of mental handicap where people began talking about how he'd be better off dead each and every time his disturbed, pink companion chose to feed him an intelligence potion.

But he didn't feel the compulsion to insult or humiliate her. He ventured that, for whatever reason, he did not find the thief's emotional outpouring to be particularly discomforting. After a long bewildered moment, he lifted his hands to hers and detached her from his hood so he could stand upright again. {I _have_ stopped,} he noted. Then he tilted his head to the side. {Are you alright, child?}

Imoen blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. {I totally survived the horrible, nasty, evil hold spell,} she rebuked him, pulling her hands free. Then her face softened. {Thank you for noticing. Even if it was your fault in the first place.} As rotten as Edwin had been to Dynaheir, he was also the only person in the world who knew the _second_ reason Imoen had been traumatized by being subjected to the enchantment spell of a trusted ally.

Edwin studied her for a moment and then nodded with a brief close of his eyes. Her choice of unsentimental recognition was noted.

..

* * *

"Perhaps we should turn our attention back to _my_ little problem, then," Edwin suggested. "Last I recall, we were discussing that the coven had attempted to kill me."

"Right," Imoen answered. "And that Kelddath _can't_ fix it."

Edwin's face soured. "Yes. And why was that?"

"Too powerful with so many witches behind it," Imoen explained, wiping the remaining emotion from her face as she collected herself. "The hit left behind a curse of sorts. He suggested we go to Baldur's Gate and, if that doesn't work, Waterdeep. I asked him if there was a way to weaken the curse, and he's talking to the Sirines for insight."

Xan cleared his throat. "Of course _Dynaheir_ might know something about how to weaken it," he observed pointedly.

Edwin glanced at the enchanter as if the elf were an idiot. He shook his head and then grimaced down at Imoen. "Do I at least get your remaining two potions to get myself to Baldur's Gate? Or do I somehow have to manage it over the next six hours?"

Imoen laughed despite herself. "Don't be silly. If that's what we have to do, then I'll get you there myself."

Aegis shook her head. "Imoen, a trip to Baldur's Gate is not really feasible right now. And Waterdeep sure isn't," she explained with a sigh. "And definitely not for someone who's just going to turn around and leave us."

"Yeah, I know," Imoen understood. "That's fine. You guys keep prepping for the bandits. I'll get Edwin there and be back before ya know it."

There was silence for a moment. Then Aegis' deafening, "WHAT!?" could be heard in every corner of the temple. "Imoen! You're shitting me! My two most combustive wizards, my awesome tag-team beserker, and my poor, poor, angry little dwarf; those are losses I can somehow manage to handle. But you? Imm!"

The thief smiled. "I made a promise!" the pink girl told her. "And I'm keeping it! Hopefully I won't be in Baldur's Gate long anyway."

"But!" Aegis protested, dazed. "But- but- but-! Hold on, I need to stand here _reeling_ for a moment as I process this." And so she did.

Xan made a dismayed expression. More time alone pitying Edwin was the _last_ thing Imoen needed right now. "There are alternative options," the enchanter disagreed. "Thalantyr has experience in breaking curses. You do not even know if you are going to be able to afford the fee in Baldur's Gate."

Imoen rolled her eyes. "Thalantyr made it clear he hates Red Wizards," the thief retorted. "It would be one hell of a haggle to get that grumpy old goat to help. Plus, I've only got two potions left! If I can't find another source, it makes the most sense to go straight for Baldur's Gate."

"Not with the rampant banditry on the roads leading north into the city!" Xan exclaimed.

"Brain... hurts..." Aegis mumbled, still dazed. "Heart hurts... more..."

Imoen sighed in exasperation, trying to think. Then she looked to Edwin, who was watching her strangely. "Well, you've got six hours to think. Try to come up with something?" she suggested.

The conjurer grimaced, lifting a hand to his face and rubbing his chin as he tried to think. He paused abruptly and looked to his hand. Then he rubbed his jawline and lifted a brow at Imoen. Then vague memories came back to him and he reached up through his hood, touching his hair. A scowl dripped low his face. "What did you do, Kwefai?" he complained, shoving back the hood to feel.

"It appears..." Aegis mumbled, "that she has kept you shaven, and also braided your hair. And now you look _quite_ dashing, if I might say so."

Most everyone in the room, conjurer included, gaped at her in horror. Obvious she was delirious from fear of losing Imoen. Xan cleared his throat. "Edwin. I was not being contrite when I mentioned that Dynaheir might know something about your condition. She would likely be willing to help if you accepted a geas not to harm her."

Edwin bristled immediately, folding his arms over his chest once more. "What form of perverse blackmail is that?! To send me begging help from the witch that left me like this in the first place?!"

Xan sniffed. "Which do you value more, your mind or your honor?"

Edwin grimaced and then frowned at Imoen. "You... you said the coven's hit should have killed me."

"Aye," the thief agreed. "For the record, I am totally in favor of the 'call on Dynaheir and promise not to hurt her in exchange for help' plan. As for the coven attacking you, Kelddath said it looked as if something had stepped in on your behalf and either forced back or soaked the shot. Any idea what might have happened?"

The Thayvian's expression went blank. He was still for a moment, gazing down at her but seeming not to see much. Then he shifted one arm up along his side almost absently to touch the back of his right shoulder. Imoen caught the gesture and found it odd; though if she _remembered_ correctly, Edwin had a tattoo on that shoulder which had regenerated along with his skin after the ogre attack. A moment later, he shook his head. "I am going to go for a walk," he muttered. "You fools are distracting."

"Kay. I'll come find you in a few hours," Imoen agreed. "Or if Kelddath thinks of anything. But, Edwin, really, Dynaheir would be willing to-"

The conjurer grunted and turned to leave swiftly. The thief frowned after him.

..

* * *

Imoen did come up to Xan to talk after a period of reflection. "Hey, you okay?" she asked him, glancing up at where Branwen was coddling him. "I um, I do _forgive_ you for the _Hold_ spell, by the way..."

"I... I will be fine," Xan sighed. "Thank you for your concern, however. I know I have not been... making you particularly happy with me of late."

"Still my best girlfriend," Imoen teased, and hugged him. "I know you meant well, even when I disagreed with you."

Xan smiled, looking a little relieved. He hugged her back. "He... perhaps he had a... a few points. Loathsome and self-destructive as he is. Do you have any idea what set him off? I-Iexpected him to focus entirely on himself, not abruptly take the moral high ground on an indirectly related topic... It... it truly caught me off-guard."

"Ehm," Imoen hesitated. "That was him being protective of his apprentice is all." Xan lifted a brow. "You know, he's just a man. He has more character traits than one."

They were interrupted by a magically glowing white pigeon, which swooped into the chamber and plopped itself down lightly on Aegis' shoulder. The ranger nearly jumped out of her skin and then looked bewildered up at the animal. "Er. Hello?" She lifted a hand to the animal, and then jumped again when it spontaneously transformed into a glimmering white envelope. Quite distracted by this strange and unexpected addition to their day, Aegis unfolded the envelope and pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment. She opened it up and then straightened a good inch or two.

"What?" Kivan asked.

Aegis shook her head and read: "Dearest, Darlingest, Deathly Deva..."

Imoen and Xan both twisted about to look at her. "Is it from _Xzar_?" the thief squawked.

Aegis' whole face was lighting up. "It's signed with a gorgeously dangerous looking X," she laughed, raising a hand to her mouth and blushing with pleasure. "It _is_!"

"Read it!" Imoen laughed in surprise, as she and Xan hurried up to investigate this unexpected letter. Branwen followed curiously. Kivan was of the opinion that letters typically ought to remain between their senders and receivers.

Aegis read: "Dearest, Darlingest, Deathly Deva,

"It has occurred to me that I have a means by which to update you on my situation, and this is therefore the result. At this juncture, I am to remain working closely with The Exile, and so I cannot rejoin you. Many apologies. I am working on it.

"You are nearly always in my thoughts, Nature Childe. I felt a sudden chill the other day that caused me to wonder if you were alright. If you are unharmed and have not yet forgotten this humble wizard, my messenger can carry a reply letter in the reverse.

"Note: I have included some tea sachets which I have prepared for your use. One cup of water or more per sachet, and steep for no less than five minutes and no longer than fifteen. Do not let anyone else have them. (Particularly our enchanter. That would be disastrous.)

"Yours Sincerely, X."

..

* * *

_Elminster scowled at Khelben but then turned his gaze back to Gorion hesitantly. He pressed his lips together momentarily in thought and then straightened his posture. "Will you show me this child?" he asked more neutrally._

_The last thing Gorion wanted to do was to put his children within touching distance of anyone who had just referred to her as a 'monster.' It took a considerable act of will to step forward and peel the towel back, turning Aegis outward so that the others could see. She blinked, releasing her ducky from her mouth and peering uncertainly at each strange face she now found staring down at her._

_She focused at Elminster at last. Then she smiled, bounced slightly with excitement, and wagged her ducky. Doubtless all parents thought their babies look perfect; but Gorion thought Aegis had a smile that could light up an entire room. She would tuck in her chin mischievously and open her mouth as the the corners of her lips curled upward and her eyes took on a shape like a half-moon or sunrise. Those smiles had so much character to them, and each and every last one of them made him feel like he had won some form of medal._

_Apparently Gorion was not uniquely susceptible to Aegis' smiles, because Elminster seemed to deflate a little. He tilted his hat back a few degrees and studied the child across the short distance between them. _

_Esmerae stepped forward. "You must permit us to examine her more closely," she said. "All of the Bhaalspawn who were adopted had a certain low threshold of taint, and there is no reason to believe-"_

_"I 'must' do nothing," Gorion answered. "We agreed any child we found with a devoted parent would be left to them. Well, this little one has a parent."_

_"A foster parent," Esmerae disagreed with dismay, "but not a parent. You are no cleric of Lathander, and you should know better regardless. But if you insist, then permit me to look into this child's mind, and I will ascertain whether she is salvageable."_

_Aegis focused on Esmerae and frowned. Her forehead drew together slightly and she pouted uncertainly._

_Khelben waved a hand definitively. "You will do no such thing. Whether he keeps the child is neither of your decisions to make. And after what we've put him through, you should be ashamed for trying to deny him his one wish."_

_"His one wish could have catastrophic consequences," Esmerae disagreed. "You described the origins of the child, _and_ all the factors that are likely adversely affecting his mental state. Even now he could be under the influence of Bhaal. We must know for certain."_

_A Mr. Arunsun was _not_ happy with Esmerae. His face was twitching slightly as he imagined Esmerae forcing her enchantments on Gorion or- heavens forbid- the child Gorion was so obsessed over. He was so irate in that moment that he could scarcely find the focus to say anything. He imagined stuffing her head into a angry bee hive. Of dire bees. Infected with some sort of poisonous, necrotic tissue plague from the depths of the Abyss. Would she be as 'enchanting' afterwards, he wondered?  
_

_Aegis started to cry, and released her ducky to the ground. Gorion blinked, startled, and pulled her close to bounce her. "Oh no, no, no," he murmured into her brow. "What's wrong? What's wrong?" Aegis mumbled and gurgled, her fingers clutching into his hair. The wide-eyed expression she gave him was strange however. She looked terrified. Her father frowned uncertainly, glancing at the Chosens._

_"Gorion, are you listening?" Esmerae asked. "A demon-child's tears are no excuse to ignore us. You are bewitched. I see it even now." _

_"Bewi-" Gorion stammered in a hiss. Then he sneered when Aegis kept crying, pulling her against his shoulder and rocking her. "Hush, hush, hush, love," he murmured, confused as it appeared that Aegis was getting more and more upset. _

_"Gorion, this child is a monster-"_

_Khelben abruptly spat out "Bild dii lokalaat nol gelahuz!" and reached over to touch the infant. There was a flash as a Protection Against Enchantment spell rippled up around her, and the girl cut off screaming almost immediately. She cooed in confusion and then hummed contently. Gorion looked first to his daughter, and then to the enchantress._

_Esmerae blinked, withdrawing a step in surprise. Elminster turned about to stare at her. A long moment passed in silence. _

_Then everyone began moving at once. Spells were flying, sequencers, Time Stops, and all sorts of other madness were going off left and right.  
_

_ "I am HOLDING a BABY! Gods damn all of you, you are WORSE than my GRANDMOTHER! What if you HIT her!? Wh- Now she's crying! Damn you, damn all of you, you are all irresponsible CHILDREN!"_

_.._

* * *

Tried to draw inspiration from how Edwin banters with Anomen, Keldorn, and Jaheira :) Did a similar thing for Elminster. Honestly one would think he'd argue with Ajantis more if Xan didn't already have that angle countered...


	38. Bonding Time

Bonding Time

..

* * *

Aegis investigated Xzar's envelope and found it neatly packed with sachets of tea, each numbered. Imoen laughed, tugging the letter down so she and Xan could look at it. "He dotted all the 'i's with hearts!" she cackled. "D'aww, Aegy, he's the most messed-up choice in lover ever, but these 'i's clearly prove it: he's done smitten with you!"

"He sent me _tea_," Aegis murmured, and Kivan _did_ come up to investigate at the word 'lover.'

Xan looked at Imoen. "When did you start approving of this relationship?" He decided not to comment on 'The Excile' or how Imoen seemed to be completely refraining from mentioning the halfling.

Imoen shrugged. "When a _tattoo_ deflected an _axe_. Duh! Besides, look how cute this phrasing is. It's all meek! Aegis, you write back to him! You write back right now! Tell him about Ulcaster and make him all terribly jealous so he has to come back! Tell him about how Edwin took on nearly fifty wraiths with fireballs and we slaughtered ghouls by the pack and there were skeletons everywhere with- you know what, let me help you write this letter, I'm the better storyteller."

"Sooo..." Branwen began. "Xan, I think maybe you and I should head into town and wind down a wee bit. We both need baths regardless." Xan realized this was a good idea, but took a moment to go and disguise Aegis; she was the most recognizable member in the party.

"This 'tea' is laced with several poisons," Kivan abruptly noted.

"Yeah! Don't worry about it," Aegis told him, holding still for the disguise spell. "Xzar has me working up an immunity to them." The wild elf raised a brow at her. "He's an alchemist. It's a long story."

Imoen flailed. "Aegy! You and I need to write this letter right now!" Aegis laughed and moved to sit with her.

Branwen put an arm around Xan's shoulders as he returned to her. "Looks like they're about to take some much needed sisterly bonding time," she added in a softer voice. "Come on. We smell like grave dirt." Kivan took note and followed them out.

..

* * *

Xan and Branwen picked the Red Sheaf for the quieter atmosphere. When the innkeeper asked for the type of suite, the elf hesitated. "Merchant," he said slowly, glancing up at Branwen. She nodded her assent; they pushed their beds together every night in a peasant suite anyway, and sleeping on the seam between two beds was hardly the most comfortable thing in the world.

They had a tub of hot water sent up. When they reached the room, Branwen told Xan to take his turn bathing first, and he hurried behind a thin screen to do so. Branwen settled down to take her armor off. She was filthy and her clothing was grungy after so many days underground, but there was nothing much to do about that until she could bathe.

"Er, Xan," she realized. "The light from the window behind you is making a lovely, sharp silhouette on the screen."

A moment passed in silence. Then he chuckled and went to close the shutters. "I think you've seen worse," he realized.

Branwen smiled, digging out a comb so she could work her hair free of tangles before she bathed. She kicked off her boots as she worked, and stretched her feet. "Well there's a truth. Good job putting on some weight, by the way."

"I had an, ahem, _ample_ coach."

Branwen was mostly beyond puns, but she thought about that one for a bit as she combed. "Hey now..."

"Will you come help me with my hair for a few minutes?" the enchanter asked.

"Sure thing," she agreed, standing up and wincing as she combed out a thick knot. She rounded the screen and then paused. Her elf was standing there with his back facing her, peering in a mirror and fussing with his braids. He was entirely nude. Her brain tried to sort through what this signified.

He _had_ gained weight, though he was still unnaturally lithe in her estimation. He had almost no butt or hips to him whatsoever. His legs had proper muscular definition for a slender person, but the circumference of each limb was next to nothing. She'd never noticed how small his _feet_ were before. Dainty. So... _adorably_ dainty. The fact that his skin was the pale blue-white of porcelain only reinforced her impression.

When he saw her reflection, he twisted and looked back at her. "Ah..." he hesitated at her uncertain expression. "It is fine. I _asked_," he reminded her.

"What are we doing now?" she asked, approaching him slowly. He shrunk a little defensively but otherwise held still. There were goosebumps on his skin, and she wondered if Xan were trying to push the limits of his own comfort.

"Adapting," the enchanter answered quickly, crossing his arms defensively over his chest and chafing his arms. "A-although my hair is quite long, I must beseech you not to touch lower than my mid-back at present."

"Oh, this," Branwen blew out in a rush of air, "could be a _bad idea_," she muttered. Then she stepped forward and began lifting the braids up where she could unravel them above his head. It took a braid or two before he became comfortable with this setup. Then he lifted his hands to help her. They worked in silence for a bit. "I noticed something today I wanted to point out to you. It's about how fast you turned on Edwin."

"Turned on? He attacked Dynaheir." Was everyone going to chastise him for doing the right thing?

"Right. Well, Edwin is a real piece of work," she agreed. "Remember, though, you were getting along with him just before that. I saw you didn't blink twice at Viconia's involvement. You haven't said a word against Kagain, Ajantis, Aegis, or Kivan about death. So I thought, maybe it wasn't what Edwin _said_ that put you so far over the edge. Maybe it was how he _touched_ her? Food for thought. I wasn't trying to make any statement on Edwin, anyway, I was just trying to figure out if you were okay."

"I..." the elf shuddered, moved by his companion's constant attention to his psyche. He considered her words for a moment. "Would it be... inappropriate... for me to lean back into you?" he asked sheepishly.

"Mm? Nae, of course not. Hold up, though." She gathered up his hair and then draped it over his shoulder. "There you go."

"I won't bother you?" he hesitated as he slowly stepped backwards and pressed his weight into her.

Branwen rolled her eyes and tousled his hair reassuringly a moment before going back to working out the last few braids. Xan took in a deep breath, getting used to the physical contact he himself had initiated. They worked the rest of his hair free in silence and then Branwen shook his hair loose and scratched over his scalp. His eyes half-closed in appreciation. Her thumbs paused at the base of his skull and then pressed suspiciously downward along his neck.

"You are _always_ real tense," Branwen noticed, digging her fingers gently into a muscle as she pulled his shoulder backwards. "I've never met a battered warrior with muscles as stiff as yours."

"Nerves?" he suggested, wincing and then sighing contently.

"I'll believe that," she agreed. "If you wanted to lay down on your belly, I could give you a brand new spine in an hour."

Something must have come off wrong about her offer. "No!" he exclaimed abruptly, leaping away from her and clutching himself. "I-I am ready to bathe now!" he sniffed dismissively.

Branwen lifted a brow and smirked, placing her hands on her hips as she watched him incredulously. "You are aware I lack the proper equipment to take advantage of you quite like that, aren't you?"

Her elf turned a little gray and shrunk into himself, and the cleric realized she'd made another misstep.

Branwen lifted her hands placatingly, backing up from him. "I'm sorry," she told him honestly. "Xan, I'm sorry. I can't always see where the line of yours is, but I'm always sorry when I cross it."

Her elf quivered, clutching at his own shoulders and glancing from her to the furnishing rapidly. "I... I know. Seldarine help me, I _know_. Oh, I must irritate you," he spat at last in mournful frustration. "I must be quite the inconsistent _trial_ on your patience."

"_Sunburns_ irritate me. You? Well, no, not so much. I mean of course it can be frustrating not knowing how to help someone, but that's one of those bearable life frustrations I think. And hardly the fault of the unhelped person."

"Bearable life frustrations?" he muttered vexedly, cyan eyes daring about as if his mind couldn't sit still.

"Like marching in the rain, suppose, or running out of ham," Branwen explained as best she could.

He smiled a little at that, weakly, and looked at the floor. "I can repay you for my mood swings by ensuring you never run out of ham?" he asked hopefully.

"Repay me, he says!" she gasped. "Why don't I throw in a nightly foot rub for you to make the deal a mite fairer!"

He chuckled. "Nildoen'nin... I cannot fathom you at times. You make life simpler. Easier to grasp."

She approached him hesitantly again. "Would you like your foot rub now or later?" she teased, touching his shoulders. When he didn't protest, she eased her arms around his own and hugged him from behind. "I'm sweet on you, I am," she confessed to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. "One way or another. Not sure why, and not inclined to care much."

Her words must have frightened him in a different way, because his eyes widened but he did not try to retreat. "I... Branwen, I-I _can't_..."

"Relax," she laughed. "And don't pretend I don't know you. Or that you don't know _me_! You just keep me updated on the rules, and we'll be right as rain."

"The... the 'rules'?" he asked. Rules for what she could do and say? It was hard for him to know what of a million possible words might upset him. The rush to escape often came so quickly, so terrifyingly...

"Aye. 'No sleeping with Ajantis.' Check! Got that one loud and clear the night you decided to go bar hopping with Imoen, I did."

The elf turned scarlet. "If you want to- if you need to- Branwen, I won't stop you from-! I can't replace-!"

She kissed his hair again and squeezed him tightly with both arms. The elf swallowed hard, closing his eyes and trying to draw on everything he knew of his companion to steady himself. After a long moment, he hugged her arms to himself and took in a trembling breath.

"What do you need from _me_ right now?" she asked him. "I'm here. I won't hurt you in any way. You are absolutely and entirely safe with me." He was quiet. "Well. I think there's a bath waiting for you," she reminded him, turning about. "Oh, would you look at that, there is! Oh and it's all good and steamining, now it is."

"Would you... Would you touch my ears?" he asked her meekly.

Branwen turned back to him in surprise. "What now?" Khalid had made it clear that elf ears were sensitive, and that unsolicited contact was a bit like grazing a woman's breast. It was one of the reasons she'd required at least some form of permission to start acting like Xan's portable ear muffs.

"My... my e-ears," he murmured, tilting his head back to look up at her. His cheeks were red again, and he gave a heavy swallow she watched run the length of his throat. "I-I... Please?"

Branwen noticed with fascination that his blush extended out to the tips of his ears. Cyan eyes searched her face as his fingers clutched for purchase on her arms in hesitant caresses. His heart was beating rapidly, and it was difficult to tell if he was terrified, excited, or some mixture of both. She thought about telling him this seemed ill-advised, but it looked like her enchanter was _desperately_ trying to let her in past his defenses.

A slight heat rose up in her own face as she lifted up a hand to gently touch his neck. Despite the fact that he'd gone days without bathing just as she had, his skin was smooth under her fingertips. He lowly lowered his head again, his eyes losing focus as she traced uncertainly over his shoulder and throat. She shifted her other arm so it was supporting him across the chest, and then pressed her fingers to his scalp and tried to gently lean his head to the side.

Xan clutched at her sleeve uncertainly, slowly complying with her wordless urging. He rested his cheek against her bicep and the crook of her elbow, with his chin propped against her forearm. Her fingers trailed gently up the curve of his throat for a long moment, reassuring him. Then she turned her hand over, and closed her fingers and thumb gently around his upward facing ear. A tremble rushed through him and he hugged tightly to her supportive arm.

As her fingers rubbed gently up and down the lower lobe of his ear, Branwen noticed that Xan sank his weight back into her body, and his eyes closed to slits. A little shudder passed through him. The ear perked up noticeably under her fingers.

"Would you tell me what this feels like to you?" she asked him after a time, because she really had no frame of reference. She felt vaguely like she was scruffing a cat.

"Soothing," he answered, breathing slowly and deeply. "But... vulnerable... The only other people I would be comfortable with touching them would be my parents or older siblings..."

"Khalid called it 'intimate,' " she told him.

"Intimate has more than one meaning," he answered, blushing hot again. "But... but from non-family... yes."

"So..." she hazarded, caressing one ear out to the tip. "You find this... sort of erotic then?" she suggested as gently as she knew how.

Xan grimaced hard, desperately trying to squash down the memory that he'd only known Branwen a pair of months. "Is that okay?" he asked in a cracked whisper.

He _was_ letting her past his defenses. "Let me know if you need me to stop," she answered, dipping her head low and pressing a kiss gently behind the exposed ear. He gave a violent tremble and then melted shaking into her arms, a weak mewl escaping his lips. The sound stood the hair up on the back of her neck and she was suddenly possessed by a need to lavish attention on him.

"You know me," she murmured reassuringly into his ear, brushing her lips along the length of his neck and embracing him tightly.

His eyes widened but he didn't say a word as her thumb caressed over the ear lobe and her fingers scratched gently through his hair. Then she nuzzled against the upturned side of his face, ear included, and tucked her fingers under his face and around his throat to gently touch the other ear. For a moment, he didn't breathe.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you," his cleric promised him.

The enchanter could feel his heart thundering in his breast. After a moment of near panic and frantic delight, he lifted an arm to wrap gently up about her neck. He clutched tightly against her for support, and whispered her name in fevered affection and gratitude.

He let Branwen dote on him in a way he had never before been doted on; and permitted her a level of intimacy he had not volunteered in decades. The touch was sweet and spoke of higher things than objectification and abuse. His legs were boneless.

He felt wanted. Not craved, not lusted after, but innocently and truly wanted.

His eyes watered. A few rapid blinks later, and tears beaded in their corners. As much as his head tried to drag him down, the butterflies in his stomach and the lightness in his breast kept him afloat. Feelings of insignificance, transience and impropriety bowed to the fondness and adoration she channeled through her touch.

"You're crying," she realized abruptly. "Xan? Xan, are you okay?"

"Y-yes!" he gasped, startled and desperate for her not to pull back from him. "Yes... I... Yes. I'm... I am _happy_."

She grunted, considering him. Then she kissed the tears away, held him tightly, and rocked him for a bit. He closed his eyes briefly and then turned his mouth gently into her cheek. Trusting her was a madness he accepted.

..

* * *

Aegis and Imoen chattered on like squirrels. They wrote the letter and braided each other's hair and talked about anything and everything. Including a lot of things only sisters could really talk about:

"So, I've a question. Does _every_ man get... excited... in the morning?" Imoen needed to know.

"As the proud owner of a necromancer, I can confirm that the answer to this question is: yes, but not necessarily always."

"Is it because of their dreams?" The younger sister pressed.

"I have been patiently made to understand that it is regulatory, natural function, and actually has nothing to do with dreams _or_ who they wake up beside."

"So how..._ endowed_... is the average man supposed to be?"

Aegis laughed. "Well," she drawled. "I'm pretty sure you know better than me by now, as I have studied a grand total of _two_ samples; and it is unfortunately not one of the many questions I asked of the anatomy expert."

Imoen was silent a moment. "Wait a minute. If Xzar was... then who have...?"

The ranger blushed guiltily and grinned, looking at the ceiling. "Well... I may have possibly, sort of encountered a certain elf at a spring... to assess the state of his scarring. Whereupon I was shot twice, but _did_ get a very good look..."

"Kivan!? Oh _gods_, tell me everything!"

"What!? No!"

"You saw the tall, dark, mysterious elf naked! I demand to know more!"

"He is _not_ interested!"

"I don't care! I'm not interested either! I have a strict 'no dalliances with party members' rule! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Well..."

There were certain things that were okay to talk about if they were shared _only_ with one's sister, after all.

..

* * *

Imoen and Aegis talked for hours.

They talked about Candlekeep and the road; about their favorite and least favorite mundane parts of being adventurers, and how the story books always left out crucial information about adventures: like how difficult it was to go organize sleeping arrangements on a tight purse or go to the bathroom in a dungeon. Imoen promised to include these details in any write up she ever did of their own adventures, to enlighten poor misinformed youths across the globe.

It had also explained to her why many famous adventuring stories included horrifying twists or betrayals. Now that she had an on-the-ground perspective, she realized those were probably not recorded true-to-form either. Everyone called to adventuring had _some_ kind of problem it seemed! Sometimes the most inexplicable people would prove loyal, and the most righteous of people could turn problematic! And then of course there were situations like Montaron, which Imoen felt any storybook would write as if one could see it coming from a mile away, but which really had been a lot more abrupt and confusing than that.

"If you are going to write a story about adventurers trying to use the bathroom in dungeons," Aegis drawled. "Then it should be a comedy. Think of how many dangers only other adventurers would understand that would baffle and confuse and delight people across Faerun!"

"Well then I've got to include dragging around the evil feebleminded magus who turns into a fireball catapult when given 'smart' potions!"

Aegis laughed. "I'm sure you could write a fiction about that; about some sort of wizardly troll or newt or something that lives its entire life off intelligence potions." Then the both of them came to the same idea at the same time. "Not a newt!" Aegis exclaimed.

"A chicken!" Imon crowed. "Oh Oghma, I should _totally_ do that! I can't name him Melicamp though." she cackled. "No! Odded the Superchicken!"

"Hahahah! I'm sure half the adventurers and noblemen from here to Neverwinter would be laughing their sides off about cranky old dwarves discussing exactly what sort of bowel movement they wanted to have whilst traversing undead infested caverns, and Odded's valiant attempts to put up with getting sat upon by chipper halflings."

Mention of Kagain sobered them a bit. Imoen saw Aegis had turned introspective, and she pat her sister's shoulder. "Look I'm not sure there was a wholly right or a wholly wrong in that whole situation. Maybe life's too complicated for straight rights and straight wrongs sometimes. Especially when everyone's an adventurer and a mite desensitized to fighting things."

Her sister frowned at her. "I still killed my traveling companion."

"Well," Imoen sighed. "You did the _Aegis thing_ to do, which at least makes you consistent, right? Even Shar-Teel saw that. You defended all the kittens you knew how to defend."

The ranger nodded. "I suppose I just have to aspire to the level of matronly-ness that I can wave a rolling pin in the air and whole armies will cower at the sound of my anger. I... I should have been able to talk him down... to fight him 'till he was beaten and let up... Or to just take the hit and forgive, to... to..."

"You can't be _perfect_ you know? And you can't win all the time. Sometimes you make decisions half and half and you just have to go on with life. Whose to say you should have forgiven Montaron for stabbing you in that very first fight?"

Aegis looked at her and thought about how Jaheira hadn't been much better at that time. "Xzar mentioned 'The Exile.' Anything you'd like to send him?"

Imoen looked at her hands. "No. I've shut that door, and shut it tight," she answered. "He was capable of something I just can't reconcile. In my heart or my head."

Aegis lifted a brow and leaned back against the wall, considering the letter they were writing. "We've still got Edwin and Viconia," she observed. "They're plenty 'capable,' I'm sure you realize. That's not even touching the sort of actions Xan, Kivan, or Ajantis could rationalize. And I don't even know what's with Shar-Teel yet."

"Well _you_ give everyone a chance," Imoen noted. "_You_ ignore what they threaten and focus on what they do. Montaron betrayed us."

Aegis scratched the back of her head. "Aye, I give everyone a chance. I'll be the first to tell you Xzar's admitted to conducting vivisection and engaging in cannibalism, he's repeatedly asked to harvest Jaheira's organs, and yet here we are writing him a ten page dissertation on the topic of how much we miss him." Imoen straightened a little, giving Aegis a disturbed expression. The ranger shrugged.

"How... how are you okay with that?" the thief asked slowly.

"Maybe I'm a visual learner. That might explain why I can tolerate when people say the most horrible things to each other, but go ballistic when someone lifts a weapon." She thought for a moment and then shrugged again. "I don't know, Imoen. But once I cared about him, I tried to figure out if there was any way we could coexist without permanently violating each other's ethics. I can't _make_ Xzar perfect, but there were some really important points he was willing to cede. And vise versa, I think. So... maybe it will work. And maybe not."

"What are you trying to say? To just rationalize away what Montaron did as 'oh, he couldn't help it, he's messed up and has problems but maybe we can compromise and only kill Aegis on Tuesdays?' "

The ranger laughed. "No. Don't forgive him. Don't make allowance. I've known you a long time, and I know you're almost impervious to taunts and insults. Montaron's actions hit you _hard;_ and I would never suggest you go seek out that kind of punishment a second time."

Imoen looked at her feet.

"I'm just wondering if... if maybe there's a way to put a little salve on that wound for you. Get some closure? No, never mind, I don't know what I'm talking about. Forget it. Even my own relationship gets... difficult to figure out sometimes. I think Xzar could kill Jaheira if he were sure I'd never find out. That's a pretty dark pill to swallow, and a lot of pressure on _me _to be responsible for a crazy, immoral person. That's not something I think many people should ever shoulder."

Imoen thought for a moment. Then she grabbed a piece of paper. Aegis blinked, leaning over to see what she was writing.

..

* * *

"I need to go find Edwin," Imoen realized. "How long has it been?"

"A couple hours. Not six, by any means," Aegis noted. "Ehm, about _Edwin_, sis. I think you are doing the right thing by making sure he's mended. But I don't want you leaving the party, mostly because the roads aren't safe. Kagain mentioned he was getting one in four caravans through to Baldur's Gate. That's really, _really_ bad. I don't want you to risk your life on twenty-five percent odds."

"Well then hopefully I won't need to go to Baldur's Gate," Imoen thought optimistically. "I'm sure we can figure out something."

"He seems fond of you," Aegis broached carefully.

Imoen blinked up at her sister and smiled. "Edwin? Well, he _is_ my friend."

Aegis looked off to the side and rubbed the back of her neck. "Well. You're _his_ friend. I'm not sure it goes both ways. Being fond of you isn't the same as being on your side when it counts. Edwin's universe seems really self-centric."

Imoen raised a brow. "I doubt he'd hurt me," she decided after a moment.

Aegis looked back at her. "Physically? I'll believe that; he's got no motive, and you amuse him. But he's going to leave the party and go after Dynaheir. That's... _big_."

"I can't _not_ help him," Imoen protested. "Dyn would know that, and I just hope she's fine."

"If you gave up on him, _I_ still wouldn't leave him for the crows," Aegis laughed. "He did his job, held to the _letter_ if not necessarily the spirit of his vow, and he's desperate not to be abandoned. Dyn fled. I'm not sure what happened magically, or how I feel about it, but at this point with Kagain dead I'll just take care of the kitten I still have."

"Well, at least that." The pink girl settled down a bit. "What's eating you about him then?"

"He sits there listening to what you're willing to sacrifice to help him, and he offers _nothing_ in exchange. Xan proposed contacting Dynaheir and he stomped off in a huff. To Edwin, you're like... like a haggle he's already won."

Imoen blew hair out of his face and huffed. "He pays attention to other people as a means to an end," the pink girl lamented. "He can be nice when it's _convenient_ for him. But I think I always knew he'd let me down. I still picked to be his friend. I still picked to let him teach me." Her face drew together with sorrow.

Aegis looked down quietly. Hearing Imoen talk fatalistically felt weird, and the ranger wondered if she was giving her sister the right advice. "I don't think Edwin can _make_ gestures of self-sacrifice, because I don't think they ever even _occur_ to him. In his world, he's always right. He plays risky and high-stakes, but he still always plays to win."

"... I won't forgive _him_, either," Imoen told her quietly. "Once he leaves, that's it. I know better."

Aegis sighed. "Well. That's gonna sting, no matter how ready you are for it. But as long as you know... guess there's nothing more to say. Maybe you should try a less difficult friendship challenge next time?"

Imoen laughed. "What challenge? Everyone easy already _is_ my friend. I guess now there's Shar-Teel. How do you think one befriends Shar-Teel?"

"Hate men," Aegis answered unhesitatingly.

"I suck at hating people," Imoen pouted. "There must be another way! Well. I've a Thayvian to talk to. Idiot that he is. You finish up that letter and then I'll meet you with him so we can have another talk with Kelddath and head into Beregost."

Aegis grunted and Imoen turned to walk away. When she noticed Imoen's posture, which was strangely slumped and leaden, the older girl bit her lip. Just before Imoen would have been too far away to call back, the ranger stepped forward. "Hey, Imm! Wait."

The thief turned about. "Yeah?"

"Look, about Edwin," Aegis hazarded, not sure if she wanted to go back down this road after such a stable conclusion had been reached. "I wasn't going to say anything but... Everyone else seems to ignore you two have an actual synergy going."

"What?" Imoen blinked.

"Xan and the others act like you're a textbook damsel; but I've watched and you and Edwin fight, trade control, and work together like near equals. Which I'm assuming is odd for him. You're clearly no victim."

The younger girl blinked, placing her hands on her hips. "Where are you going with this?" she asked curiously.

"I just... I saw for a moment how frightened he was when he was lobbing fireballs at wraiths. And it occurred to me that maybe he trusts you. And that you shared magic _specifically_ and _only_ with him. The others are ignoring you two have some kind of bond."

Imoen dropped her hands, shifting her feet as she steadied her weight. "Are you... are you actually supporting my friendship with the vain, womanizing, spoiled, evil wizard assassin?"_  
_

Aegis was quiet for a moment. Then the corner of her mouth quirked slightly. "Well, you've always had queer taste in friends. Like that girl who used to talk to dead things, I mean, what the heck was up with her?"

Imoen snorted. Then she giggled. "Yeah, you were _really_ weird. But then you weren't ever going to kill anyone."

"You'd be surprised." Aegis crossed her arms uncertainly behind her back. "Everyone's trying to protect you from being taken advantage of. But you've _always_ been that cheeky brat who'd befriend the most unsociable of people and bring out the best in them. It's... _part_ of you. They don't know that. And if it's what _you_ want, then I support your decision not to change. Even when you 'lose.'"

The thief considered this, looking at the ground.

"I... I know you're still reeling. But something tells me we were _smothering_ you with the advice _we_ thought you needed, when all you really wanted to know was how to stay true to yourself after a hardship. But you know, you _do_ impact people. You steal their hearts just as easily as their belongings."

"D'aww!" Imoen gushed, looking up at her. "Did you _just_ come up with that? That was _so_ cutely phrased!"

Aegis grinned. "Look, from my position, the Red Wizard's a lost cause. But he's _your_ friend. Don't stand passively back and wait for him to leave, just because everyone else would do worse. Make it as hard for him to do the wrong thing as you can."

"Noted," Imoen nodded. Then she stood in a deep breath and hopped all the way back to her sister and hug-tackled her. "I wuv you, big sister. Wuv wuv wuv wuv wuv."

"I just want you to be _you. _And happy," Aegis told her, squeezing her tightly. "I assume the first is the only route to the second."

..

* * *

_Gorion glared down at both squirrels. "This is what you get for having a war involving spell-breaches, weakness spells, and lowered resistances with a baby in the room."_

_Khelben-Squirrel looked to Elminster-Squirrel. The latter was slowly losing his ability to contain his sentiments. A moment later, Elminster-Squirrel fell backwards, laughing hysterically in high-pitched chitters at their predicament. Here they were, two Chosens of Mystra, the world's most powerful archmagi, and they had been permanently transfigured by one enraged father once they'd expended all their best contingencies, spell-like abilities, sequencers, magic items, and so forth._

_Esmerae had been Imprisoned by Khelben, as per the spell, and in that manner had retained at least some of her dignity. _

_Khelben-Squirrel put his paws together and begged pleadingly. They had been on the same side! He'd have never hit the baby or let her be hit! _

_Gorion scowled, bouncing Aegis tenderly for a moment. Then a devious scowl came over his face. He reached over and picked up Elminster-Squirrel by the tail. He carried the surprised creature over to Aegis' baby basket, nestled the little girl within, and then handed her the squirrel._

_Aegis gave an expression of awe, smiling at the tiny mobile creature. Then she grabbed him with one hand and tugged him close to gum on his tail. "You wanted to see her!" the aasimar cooed with a terribly evil grin as the squirrel writhed and flailed helplessly. At least he was unwilling to bite a baby in the face; Perhaps Gorion would forgive him after all._

_Khelben-Squirrel bounded up to him and quickly climbed up his robes to investigate. He reached his shoulder, craned over to see, and then did a facepalm. Gorion grinned, picked up the squirrel, and then dispelled the polymorph. Khelben reappeared beside him, still face-palming. "You have developed a very interesting sense of justice, Gorion," the lord of the tower told him._

_"Yes. Well. I'll turn him back in a few minutes. The chance to humiliate you both was too great not to take; but then I live here by your good graces and so I felt perhaps I shouldn't give her _your_ tail to nom on. He's no such excuse."_

_Aegis hugged the helpless squirrel to herself and yawned sleepily. "Abwu," she babbled, holding the squirrel close._

_Elminster-Squirrel looked up at them pathetically and sighed. This was the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to him; and Elminster Aumar had had a great many bizarre things happen to him in his long life._

* * *

Wuv! Twue Wuv! The most powerful force in the universe!


	39. Hanging with Friends

Hanging with Friends

The Fabulous Foster Father Flashbacks are taking a break; I got over the really big plot points I wanted to hit, and I haven't thought up the way I want to present any further flashbacks :)

..

* * *

Gorion tugged his hood low as he carefully eased the temple window open and leaned outward to look downward. The Red Wizard had settled himself on the stone lip of the temple base. His arms were crossed over his chest with his spellbook resting in his lap; he was looking off into the distance. When he heard Imoen's footsteps, he glanced over at her and then settled his hands on his knees. She skipped up humming with her arms behind her back, and then leaned over dramatically to have a look at him.

"You seem pensive!" she cooed in greeting.

"I am honestly surprised you did not show up earlier," the Thayvian muttered. "I had a nice reprieve from your voice for a few hours."

"What, really? _That's_ your insult?" Imoen pouted. "It's like we've gone backwards in time or something! Or have you run out of new material and resorted to recycling old stuff?" She must have seen a tell-tale sign of amusement on his face because she broke into a smile and plopped down on the temple stones beside him. "I just had a long chat with Aegis is all."

"About?"

Imoen crossed her legs and leaned back, thinking about the question. "Mm. All that's happened to us. Usually we'd talk more, and we hadn't had a real heart-to-heart in awhile. Well and then we gossiped. You know, like only sisters can gossip."

"No, I am afraid I do not know," the Thayvian muttered as if irritated.

"Taboo subjects!" Imoen explained. "Like how to handle that time of month on the road and exactly how elves and men measure up length-wise!"

"Ah." He had been satisfactorily enlightened, and further information was unnecessary.

Down below Gorion's window, Imoen wondered why Edwin hadn't immediately turned the topic onto his own wellbeing. An obvious 'best' solution must not have occurred to him. She guessed he might be taking a break from too _much_ thinking. "Had any insights?" she broached gently. Narrowed eye shifted to her. "Too many insights?" she guessed. He didn't answer. Imoen considered her feet. A moment passed in silence. "In that case, how would you like an inane discussion on topics of little to no consequence for a few minutes?"

The Thayvian grimaced, but she was right to assume the last few hours had done nothing for his nerves. He didn't like to admit it, though. Feeling a lack of control was not something he _did_. "I could perhaps weather through a slightly pink topic or two," he answered gruffly. "Unless you want to waste air discussing Dynaheir, instead."

Imoen considered the prompt. "Do _you_ have any siblings?"

"A few," he responded.

That was a strange answer. "A few? How many? Older or younger?"

Edwin shrugged. "One in six children who enter the Red Wizard Academy survive to adulthood. My father was adamant about having magically competent successors. Do some swift math for me, my Buoyant Purple Waif. If my father would like four heirs, and if we temporarily disregard children born sans magical aptitude, how many siblings am I likely to burn through?"

Imoen's brows raised incredulously. Uh... One woman had that many babies?" was the first thing that came to her mind.

Edwin looked at her patiently for a moment. "Very well. How many _half _siblings am I likely to burn through?" he amended.

This conversation was shedding light all over the place. And what a horrible place it was! "You- well- wow," Imoen muttered in dismay, sitting up straighter and looking at him with an attentive expression. "Are you the eldest child, then?"

"I was his firstborn mage child, and I passed all his expectations with flying colors," the Thayvian responded. "I have two elder brothers in military careers, and I hardly even care to remember their names. I am thus far my father's only named heir."

Imoen tilted her head to the side. "So you neither know nor care who the other mage-kids are either because they're always different, never home... and so far none have survived long enough to earn their red robes?"

He nodded at her accuracy in perception.

Imoen looked out at the horizon and sat in silence for a moment, letting the significance of such an alien culture weigh on her for a bit.

The Thayvian lifted a brow and smirked at her. "What? No more questions? Have you honestly been rendered silent for once? Sometimes I am even in awe of my own capabilities; I did not assume this was possible!"

The thief glanced at him and then scooted closer to him and put her arms around one of his. "So, I don't know if I've told you this before, but I don't think I like Thay very much." Her mentor chuckled. "No, honestly, this is a place you have invited _me_. Do I strike you as one in six? Bleck."

Listening from the window above them, Gorion tensed. What on Faerun was _with_ his girls and attracting the attention of problematic wizards!? Elminster had been bad enough!_  
_

"You are one in ten thousand," Edwin responded, eyeing the place Imoen was touching him as if trying to decide the best way to remove her from contact with his person. "And unless you plan to assassinate _yourself_ owed to lack of peers to be jealous of you, or die in an overambitious crafting incident, I _suppose_ I can refrain from sacrificing your whimsical head to any lower deities in exchange for their boons."

Imoen made a face. "I... I actually can't tell if you're joking..." His eyes flit back to her face and he smirked. "I mean, no _wonder_ you ask me questions about my family!" she exclaimed at last, throwing an arm in the air. "You honestly have no idea what one should look or behave like!"

Edwin scowled. "_Should_?" He was offended. "Listen to me, child: My household courses with magical potential; and _I_ am heir to an entire province. Of all the tharchions, only two are Red Wizards, and _both_ of them are _zukirs_. My father has identified the path to empowering his family and is pursuing it _quite_ brilliantly."

"Oh really? By running a farm and slaughterhouse for baby mages?" she asked in pointed sarcasm.

Edwin scowled. "Do not mock what you cannot fathom, purple waif. To become a zukir is to have _immeasurable_ power in a land of infinite resources. My family's actions have put its children- and _me_- many steps towards the realization of that goal. What does it matter if children were born and children died who never had what it took to survive in Thay in the first place?"

Imoen shook her head. "Family is supposed to protect, support, and care for you when you're weak so that one day you _can_ be strong; not throw you in a meat grinder and assign you a rank and holdings if you somehow live!"

"Meat grinder? The word is 'crucible,' little girl. The worthy survive, and are made greater through the struggle. So presumptuous you are, O Morally Enlightened Thief, to think _your_ definitions should be universal just because _you_ like them best."

The thief rolled her eyes and looked irritably at random bushes. Now he was just being contrary; obviously she was right! "At least_ I_ know I don't have to _earn_ my da's love," she muttered.

The Thayvian scoffed and spoke words that seemed more ingrained than a simple rebuttal: "Something unearned has no value."

Imoen twisted slowly to stare at him, her brows drawn together and her mouth forming an uncertain frown. He wasn't looking at her and seemed to be thinking about something. He was not smiling, and his fingers had curled slightly about the edges of his spellbook. _That's all you are, _she realized with pitying horror. _A tharchion's Red Wizard heir, and nothing else. That's even why you're the best wizard in the party. And, in your mind, does that mean losing your magic makes you nothing at all?__  
_

The thief reached forward with unthinking instinct to place a hand on his, but the moment did not have the same significance to Edwin Odesseiron as it did to Imoen of Candlekeep. He was startled by her touch and then recognized the pity in her expression even if he could not fathom the cause. An ugly sneer curled his mouth low and his next words were cold and proud:

"While you and your sister are busy scrounging about in the dirt for sustenance, with assassins hot on your tails, no fathers in any position to aid you, and in exile from your own home; _I_ will eventually return to a fortress palace and drink wine from breasts of all the concubines I can number, whilst studying new magic rituals beside a window with a picturesque view of crucified rebels and piked enemy skulls." He looked irritably away from her.

Edwin probably knew better than to think those types of words had any impact on Imoen at all. "Can I be your surrogate, non-expendable little sister? It sounds like you need a sibling who won't let you down in magic-related emergencies," she cooed playfully. The magus sneered. Imoen grinned. "Well, I've got something to cheer you up, mister skulls-and-concubines. I've thought up a _temporary_ patch for your condition, at least."

He hesitated and then looked at her with a frown, sitting up a little straighter. "I am listening."

"Those _Potions of the Scholar_ we've been giving you were made by a wizard. That means there's a wizard spell out there that has nearly the same effect as the potions. If we can teach you that spell, you'll be able to keep your brains intact by employing back-to-back castings of it. That'll take a big chunk out of your spells each day, but at least you'll have your wits full-time. From there, we should be able to figure out the next steps to healing you pretty quickly. And you won't have the pressure of knowing your thinking time is limited to a collection of steeply-priced hours. Sound like a good step?"_  
_

Her Red Wizard stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he surprised her by shuddering and looking away. Imoen perked up in surprise.

"Um. I... I thought you'd be happy to hear my solution?" She was confused.

"I am," he answered quietly. Imoen frowned. Then she released his shoulder and put her arm around his back instead. He grimaced, annoyed with her. "Release my person, waif. I am currently a mentally capable adult, not some toddler or simpleton. I do _not_ require your coddling."

The thief tilted her head to the side. "What's it like?"

He growled. "Being a simpleton?"

"No!" she laughed. "Being a mentally capable adult who doesn't need coddling."

Edwin paused as if processing the clarification she'd offered. Then his mouth pressed into a thin line as he glowered at nothing.

"Ooh," she drawled. "That's a smile... I _know_ that's a smile! I know what the starts of your smiles look like! They look like I've just caused you indigestion!"

His lips twitched, straining as he fought furiously against the forming smirk.

"Come on now, give it to me! Give me that smile...!" He glared at her. Imoen grinned, showing off all of her teeth. Then she modulated her voice, lifting it into a high, airy, childish, diabetic coo. "Smile, Eddy, Smile! I'll teach you to be happy!"

He nearly leaped out of his skin and stared at her in wide-eyed terror. Then he turned away and lowered his head as a laugh forced its way out from his throat. Imoen cackled triumphantly and her mirth must have been infectious, because the grin didn't leave Edwin Odesseiron's clench-jawed mouth even as he pinched his brow and tried with all his might to be angry. Eventually he surrendered and just smirked defeatedly at the ground.

"That... that _woman_!" he shuddered in horror.

"Ha! I'm going to keep that up my sleeve for the next time you look miserable!" she laughed. "I wonder if cursed-you remembers who Alora is? Maybe I could create an illusion of-? No, no, that would be too mean of me!"

He looked up past his hand. "What... what... _do_... I behave like... in the in-betweens?" he asked slowly.

Imoen giggled. Perhaps they had found a second, inane, pink conversation topic on which to distract him from his insecurities. "Frustrated," she answered after a moment. "You have trouble with simple things and get mad at yourself about it. You spent this morning trying to memorize how jars work so at least something in the universe would obey you properly."

He tilted his head slightly to the side. "I recall who I am?" he wondered.

"Well, when I tidied you up this morning," Imoen tweaked the wizard's braid, "you demanded a mirror so you could see what I'd done to you. And then spent a good fifteen minutes preening yourself to make sure you looked yourself. You even rolled your eyes at me in this haughty, I-am-a-noble-and-you-are-a-silly-peasant way when I teased you about it. You might have been vague on the details, but you still had a clear mental impression of who you were and what you were supposed to look like."

That seemed to please him a little. "What else am I aware of?

"You stop being able to speak anything but Mulhorandi. You refer to magic as 'sparkles,' and you know that they are 'gone' and it clearly depresses you something awful. You figured out that I was 'Kwefai' after interacting with me for a minute or so, and you're cognizant of your surroundings. You follow me pretty closely and you wouldn't go walking into danger. Hey, you also saved my life from a skeleton warrior outside of Ulcaster. Do you remember that?"

Her Red Wizard seemed surprised, so she decided to tell him the whole of that.

"Yeah, you clearly know your way around a combat knife; which sort of surprised me. You braced it like this," she demonstrated, "with your forearm to deflect a flail head. My ribs and the organs which they contain were all very thankful."

Edwin straightened a little and she knew she'd managed to give the vain peacock dragon just a little bit of his pride back. She decided to de-emphasize his docile behavior, inability to perform simple functions like dressing himself, and childishness; and she especially didn't mention he'd curled up to sleep against her for the past two nights. "Well my father is a warmage," he told her with pride of a considerably less vicious hue. "Even hand-to-hand I am dangerous."

Imoen let him have that moment. It would have been counter productive to take it from him. "You also made it clear in no uncertain terms that I am _not_ to come to Thay."

Edwin lifted his brows. "Wait. What? How?"

"Yes. Xan was going on about how incredibly horrible you were- as if I somehow hadn't met you?- and somewhere in there asked if you'd ever invited me to Thay. Actually, I'm pretty sure 'Thay' was the only word you actually heard. But afterwards you felt it was very important to tell me: 'Monkey not go Thay. Danger.' And then I was overwhelmed with feelings of endearment towards you."

He scowled. Imoen giggled, hugging to his arm again. He waved a hand irritably, but did not refute his stupid-self's words. "Fine. Fine. But you remind me of something which I've been intending to ask: Have you been taking this time to study?"

Above them, Gorion drew in a surprised breath they did not hear. Imoen paused. "Uh. No."

"You must be joking," he exclaimed in disbelief. "You have had unrestricted access to my spellbook, I have been incapacitated, and you have not capitalized on this opportunity and spent it in learning something?"

"Well _excuse_ me if I was too busy worrying about a stupid, fire-breathing, red _bird_ to focus on stealing all of his knowledge! But sadly I was not born with your cutthroat instincts!" He glared at her in irritation. She rolled her eyes and flopped on her back in his lap, which made him hiss in annoyance. Gorion had to retreat sharply and cast a clairvoyance spell to keep an eye on them. Imoen was saying: "Edwin, you're going to end up leaving soon. What's the point of studying?"

The conjurer blinked down at her. "You have Xan. And if that does not satisfy you, then you hardly _require_ a tutor."_  
_

Imoen stuck out her tongue and made an expression of distaste. "I'm fond of my tutor. How about you just gloat that you're the only one I feel comfortable talking about magic with? That should please you."

The Red Wizard glared at her. "I did not teach you magic so that you might sink into some infantile, lethargic boredom and squander your talents!"

"Squander squander squander," she taunted, waggling her fingers in the air.

He rolled his eyes, holding out his hands a little as if saying, 'why me?' Then he shook his head and lifted her up an inch to extract his spellbook, which he promptly balanced on her as if she were a lectern. "Here, spoiled child. I have something for you to play with," he muttered, flicking through the pages and then speaking a command word. When he did so, one of the pages turned into a neat bundle of folded parchment, which he handed to her.

"What are these?" she wondered, taking them. "This one isn't even your handwriting..."

"An unfinished spell, and my notes," he supplied. "Do you remember stealing a certain wizard's red hat? Well, clearly the purple ink is a riddle he thinks only _you_ can solve. So put your mind to something useful."

Gorion scowled. Imoen looked up at her mentor in surprise. "This was from _Elminster_? He gave you a spell? Why?"

Edwin grimaced. "As a tongue-in-cheek peace offering, I think. After I spent thirty minutes thrashing him for bedding a nineteen-year-old girl."

Gorion raised a brow. Imoen broke out laughing. "Hey, I _totally_ seduced him! Do you have _any_ idea how much hard liquor I had to buy to pull off getting a Chosen of Mystra tipsy? " She winked. "And he was _worth_ it." A concealed monk cringed and slapped a hand over his face.

Her Thayvian stared down at her for a long moment, his face surprisingly unreadable. "Well, if that is the case," he told her, "you should know he was so taken with you that he outright admitted he planned to offer you an apprenticeship in a year or two." There was quiet resentment in his voice.

Imoen lifted a brow. Then her jaw dropped. "Sweet gods above," she realized, "you're _jealous_." Edwin straightened up in disgust. "Someone tried to steal your monkey!" she crowed. "Someone who's actually a bigger wizard than you!" He snarled. "Knows more spells! Has more magic!"

"Get the _hells_ off of me, I am not-!"

"Who is smarter than you! Who has extensive charisma! Who isn't Feebleminded!"

He snarled, grabbing her shoulder and half-standing to try and spill her onto the ground. She fought him. "Get-!"

"Who couldn't even snag my apprenticeship after sleeping with me!" she cooed gleefully, holding onto his arm and the front of his robes, an enormous smile on her face. Edwin froze, thinking about this. "D'ya think that means he's jealous of _you_?" she laughed.

Edwin glared down at her. _"She speaks not of other wizards. Just you; and fondly at that." _His shoulders lowered an inch and he frowned uncertainly passed the glare. Perplexed by her, he settled back down against the temple stones.

Imoen beamed at him a moment longer. "I've got something for you," she said after a moment, sitting up slowly so as not to knock the spellbook out of his hands, and then grabbing for her pack where she'd plopped it on the ground beside her. "I have an idea for how we are going to get you the spell we need. I'm sure you've noticed we're low on potions."

"I assumed you planned on speaking with Thalantyr, given he is the only real source of magical tools in this dismal cesspool of a region," he muttered, dusting off his lap and eyeing her uncertainly. He wasn't entirely clear what he felt about his bizarre companion that afternoon. To be honest, having conversations about mundane topics such as siblings did not come naturally to him, and he was still feeling bizarre and helpless about his mental condition.

"I need to unload part of a bag of holding," Imoen told him, settling her new spell-riddle down in her lap. "I'm sure what I'm looking for's at the bottom."

Edwin leaned an elbow on his knee and his cheek on his hand. "I see."

"No, but you soon will!"

..

* * *

Ajantis, as it turned out, could absolutely hold his alcohol. Given that he was a paladin, and that neither woman expected him to have much experience with bar hopping, this came as something of a surprise. Viconia had already cast _Slow Poison_ on Shar-Teel twice and the woman was headed into her third bout with drunkenness, and it looked as if their crusader companion was only just beginning to show signs of being tipsy. Viconia filed this information away for later use.

Not all people took to alcohol equally and, in quite a few cases, it could bring out mean streaks in the imbiber. This did not appear to be the case with Ajantis. His shoulders had relaxed somewhat and he had finally started to pick at his food. It felt odd to be coddling a man belonging to a slave race; a man who was somehow her equal, significantly taller than her, and possessed of simultaneously bizarre convictions and naivety.

Still, Aegis' instructions on discovering Viconia's deceptions had been to look after Ajantis. The dark elf had nowhere else to go, and no other allies to turn to. Her time with the adventuring band, dramatic as it had been, was still one of the more stable time periods she had enjoyed while living among surfacers. Her arms and armor were well-maintained, her skills were appreciated, she was not currently dependent on sex arts for survival like some worthless _male_, and she had been eating regular meals and sleeping in warm beds.

All of this meant Ajantis' safety was of paramount importance, at least until Viconia found some other means to reestablish her position in the group. Though the cleric was annoyed by the loss of such a useful warrior as Kagain, _his_ death had been an acceptable loss in the scheme of things. The paladin's would have cost her.

In any event, Shar-Teel also seemed to be trying to cheer Ajantis up, and if even Shar-Teel was trying to be 'nice' to a man, then surely Viconia had not gone soft. In fact it gave the drow some time to chat with and learn about their newest addition to the group. Though not the most patient creature in the world, Shar-Tell possessed a sharp wit and even sharper combat skills.

"Didja know that she were that strong?" the fightress slurred her abruptly, shaking Viconia out of her thoughts.

"Who? Aegis?" the drow asked. Kagain had been a seasoned warrior, and uninjured. Although Aegis had been better armed, Viconia had not expected the final battle to be so one-sided.

"I saw everyin'," Shar-Teel laughed. "He grabbed for the axe and it was worth jack shit. She hit what she wanted to hit and ain't no one was gonne stop her. What a _woman_." Ajantis cringed and Shar-Teel laughed at him. "What's wrong pretty boy? Gettin' outclassed by all the girls, are ya? "

He clutched his ale tightly.

"Poor, big, strong paladin," the fightress cooed maliciously. "Threw a punch and couldn't back it up! Needed ta be _rescued_ didja? Boo-hoo, I'm a pally and I had to be saved by a girl and got my shield-mate axed in the face- ha-!"

Viconia was not expecting Ajantis to suddenly whirl on them. He knocked over his ale, throwing himself at Shar-Teel. The pounced woman squawked in surprise and the then the two had gone rolling, knocking over their table and sending food and ale flying. Viconia scrambled to her feet. "No!" she exclaimed. "Both of you! Stop! Ajantis!"

The two were wailing on each other. Shar-Teel had gotten on top and hammered away at his face twice, but she was too drunk to maintain her position of power and Ajantis could take a beating. He hit her across the jaw, temporarily stunning her, and then he stiff-armed her off of him and clambered on top.

Concerned that her paladin was going to get their second worthwhile fighter murdered in as many days, Viconia scrambled forward to try and figure out how she might tear them apart. Other bar patrons were shouting, and a few adventurous types and a guard or so were coming forward to see what the matter was. Viconia spat curses at the pair while they wrestled and mauled one another.

"That is IT!" Viconia thundered. She almost screamed her diety's name aloud in a supplication for Divine Favor, but the wrestling pair did something quite unexpected.

Shar-Teel got both legs around the paladin's waist, latched them tight about his hips, and then shoved her mouth to his. Ajantis knelt there in stunned bafflement for a moment, panting heavily into the kiss, both palms still firmly on the ground. Viconia hesitated. A moment later the knight leaned backwards to free up his arms from supporting them, and then latched his hands tightly around Shar-Teel to return the kiss.

The drow slapped a hand over her face. Then she nervously turned about to face the crowd. "What is the problem!?" an adventurer asked.

"They- they were having a very tense moment! That is all!" Viconia stammered. "We lost a companion on the field recently! It- it is no concern of yours!"

"They are tearing up the bar," The guard shouted. "Get them to a room! And the barkeep'll be the first to tell you that you're responsible for damages."

The cleric hesitated, trying to figure out if this was a terrible idea or not. A slow grin wormed its way across her face. "Of... Of course! I will do that." No one had ever said she needed to defend Ajantis' _virtue_, now had they? Besides, perhaps it would do the paladin some good.

..

* * *

Twenty-six sets of armor, an entire preserved and uncooked turkey, countless gem bags and wands, fifty kobold quivers of arrows, and numerous odds and ends later, and Imoen was still digging.

"Maybe if you held on to my ankles, I could just dangle myself headfirst in and actually have a look around inside," Imoen reasoned.

"Thief, dropping you in your own bag of holding sounds like a suitably ironic means of kidnapping you," the conjurer teased. "What are you looking for, anyway?"

"You'll see! You'll see!" She huffed and then pulled out a wash basin, the type of which ought to have been installed in a counter.

"The hells do you have _that_ for?"

"Someone once told me I had a tendency to steal everything but the kitchen sink. I had to put it to the test."

"Of course you did. (I see clearly now, what other incentive would the silly child need?) Tell me, when did this bag of holding even join your service?"

"I borrowed it. Involving a carnival."

"Yes, mm, I'm sure you did. (Will the original owner ever be getting it back, I wonder, or should he start charging late fees?)"

Imoen stretched out a leg towards him. "Cannot... reach... to pinch! Edwin, will you believe me if I tell you he totally did not deserve a bag of holding, and was using it to store a very large inventory of pet rabbits and their cages?"

"Of course he was. (I _bow_ to the-) Hold up. I have this. I _bow_ to the _superior_ morality of the party thief. There, how was that?"

"Excellent counter-muttering. Ah!" Imoen exclaimed as she placed her hand back into the pouch. "There it is."

"There _what_ is, purple child?"

Imoen looked up at Edwin almost guiltily. "Okay. Look I _might_ already have the spell you need." The wizard perked up and frowned at her. "I-I wasn't going to say anything, but-"

"You _might_ have a spell that would alleviate this _excrutiating_ torment but you _weren't_ going to say anything to someone who is apparently your _favorite _wizard in the world, eh?" he growled.

"Hey! Look, look, you'll understand in a second it's just... It's just I was never gonna... _use_ this, you know? Um. I mean, have you noticed Aegis has a lock of silver hair wrapped up in twine she keeps close to her when she's feeling down or, like, sentimental?"

Edwin tilted his head to the side curiously. Spying on them from up in the temple, Gorion stiffened in surprise.

"It's... well it's some of Gorion's hair and... Well, Aegis wasn't... wasn't the only person who took a memento to remember him bye that day..." Imoen bit her lip and then slowly stood up, drawing out a worn leather book with a light-blue cover gilded in golden lining."

The Thayvian looked at the tome in surprise. Then his gaze darted to Imoen. "You took the old monk's spellbook," he realized.

Imoen nodded sheepishly. "Aegis has no idea. I didn't know if it was appropriate to ask and-and- she was crying so hard and... well, I needed to have it," she said, holding the tome close and gently touching it's spine. "Gorion was the one who made our _Potions of the Scholar_..." She looked to Edwin. "So this _might_ have it."

He frowned. "You have never opened it, then?"

"No," Imoen answered quietly. "So be a good evil wizard about this, okay? Aegis and two dozen Harpers would totally kill me."

"A good evil- come... come here, child," he said, waving her forward and shutting his eyes momentarily as if she'd given him a headache but left him disinclined to yell at her.

She swallowed and then scooted up against him again. "I'm guessing it'll be near the back," she said. "Maybe with all the super-quick magical diaper-removal spells," she joked, hesitantly offering him the tome.

Edwin glanced at her for a moment before taking the book with the reverence she required of him. He slipped a thumbnail between the pages and then gently opened it halfway, and laid it down between their laps so she could hold half of it. They explored the pages quietly. Imoen, despite her reluctance to look within previously, was now curiously peering over the pages.

"This..." Edwin hesitated. "This was no conjurer of cheap parlor tricks... This man lived as a monk, you say?"

"Yeah, this was Gorion's," Imoen responded. "Why?"

"All of the spells have been rewritten to work with different elements," he noted with a confused shake of his head. "Mostly ice. You do not yet appreciate, but replacing the elemental component of a spell is... it's not _easy_, to say the least. It is a task largely for bored archmagi."

"Well, you heard Elminster say that he was apprenticed by Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun, didn't you?" she asked.

"Hmm? No, I think I was too busy being disgusted with your childish infatuation at that time. But an archwizard has many apprentices," Edwin muttered. "Few will ever master even a handful of his tricks." He glanced at her. "For instance, do you yet see _me_ invoking lightning bolts of fire?" he asked with perhaps a little more humility than he had intended to grant.

"Well... Gorion was pretty old. And there was plenty of research material and not many perils to fight while living in Candlekeep."

"And the owner of this spellbook... Gorion... he was brought down by the same Horned Man who has placed a bounty on your sister's head amounting in the thousands of gold pieces? Who is still hunting you with assassins and whom you fools are likely to end up confronting and trying to kill _if_, of course, you survive that long?"

"Well there was another mage he knocked out in the opening round, and two ogres he exploded into chunks. You should have seen the fight, it was... there was magic _everywhere_. I thought for sure old Mr. G. had it. But it wasn't enough. He burned _every_ spell he had that day, till he was down to a belt knife, and the Horned Man just took it and kept on coming."

Edwin stared at Imoen uncertainly for a moment. It had never properly occurred to him that leaving the party to pursue Dynaheir entailed leaving Imoen in harm's way. After a moment he filed that thought away and shook his head. "The idea that a wizard of this skill squandered his last two decades as a recluse raising an idealistic ranger and future alcoholic baffles me. There were so many better uses of his power."

Imoen sighed fondly at her wizard's predictable single-mindedness. "I'm as much for trouble and excitement as the next person, but if you can't figure out why an old worry-wort might enjoy settling down to raise a kid in the comfort of an isolated fortress, then you're doomed. You are _never_ going to be happy ever in your whole life, Edwin." He raised a brow and glanced at her.

"Excuse me? I beg to differ, Buoyant One. I am happy very frequently; often in the evenings; usually while not incapacitated by Wychlaran curses."

"Your daily facial expressions run a larger gamut of negative emotions than I done knew was possible; and as the woman who walked in on you in a brothel, I'd like to inform you that _that_ was the most _boring_ sex I have ever seen. And I've been at this for a grand total of how many weeks now?"

Much to Imoen's amusement, Edwin looked thoroughly scandalized. "Y-you-! She was a whore! I am not a circus performer, and I certainly do not work for things I have already paid for! What is _wrong_ with you, why have you brought that up!? Be ashamed and never mention it again, like any decently modest female!"

"Well if it's any consolation, I'm _pretty_ sure Viconia would be a rotten lay, too. Given that you are both nobility, both had some form of concubines, and both are used to being catered to..."

"What!? I am not a rotten-! That was a brothel-! You little _whore_, where did this topic even come from!?"

Imoen grabbed the hand he was gesturing with and showed him his own fingernails; she'd been waiting for an opportunity to point this out to him for a very long time. "If you had ever tried to satisfy woman in all your life, you would be keeping the nails on these fingers..." She choked her grip up to his fore and middle fingers, "short. And probably on the thumb, too." Edwin stared at her. Imoen grinned like a happy piranha. "Just sayin'." A moment passed in silence.

"And they call _me_ evil," he muttered at last. "Come here, you despicable pink child; put your attention back to the task at hand, and help me find this spell before my wits abandon me. No! Not another word, lest we depart on some ridiculous tangent and lose what time I have yet remaining."

..

* * *

Gorion, this is why, as an older parent, you should never spy on your young adults' conversations. Unless you wan't to be subjected to a great amount of psychological torture.


	40. Sweet, Silly Child

Sweet, Silly Child  
In which more layers are uncovered and trauma does weird things to people! :)

..

* * *

Imoen pushed open the door to the peasant suite and tossed her pack onto her bed and hung up her cloak. "Edwin, you heard Kelddath. If you could get a witch to recant the curse or bless you, he and the Sirines could heal you. Dyn would totally-"

"No." The conjurer was unyielding, shedding his own pack and then arranging the bedside table to use as a desk. He drew out the dead monk's spellbook, an inkwell and paper, and immediately set to work. "There are hundreds of ways to break a curse."

Imoen placed her hands on her hips, eyeing him critically. "We _are_ going to talk about this once you've got that spell sorted out, mister."

Dismissive grunt and a vague wave of the hand.

She sighed dramatically; Edwin could be so ridiculous sometimes. "That potion you're on won't be enough," she observed. "Do you want to work through the night or rest and pick things up in the morning?"

"Through the night. Now go play and leave me to my studies; you are a distraction even at the best of times. Find an elf or bard or something, that seems to be your interest."

Imoen rolled her eyes, digging out the next _Potion of the Scholar_ and tucking it into the sash at his waist so that he wouldn't accidentally knock it over. "D'ya want a bucket to pee in and a crust of bread?" she asked him mischievously.

"Shoo. (The only thing I want right now is a hookah of jasmine flavored marsh leaf...)"

She thought of pinching him for muttering or asking what a 'hookah' was, but then nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Hold in there," she encouraged him. "And try to keep calm; you _are_ a genius after all."

..

* * *

[Not with your sister,] Kivan half-questioned as he and Aegis split the price of a second room.

[Edwin's neither the best-liked nor best-behaved party member, but he behaves well enough with Immy. Anyway, I was with Xzar when the arrangement was made.]

Aegis wanted to ditch her cloak and full plate in the bedroom for the evening. She settle her pack on the ground and then began fiddling with the straps. Seeing this, Kivan came up to assist. His fingers were deft and efficient at the task, and soon she'd been freed. It had really done the job well; this was one of the first adventures on which she hadn't been pincushioned.

[I reek,] she realized, and then laughed. The elf settled her breastplate down and glanced at her.

[Yes,] he agreed tonelessly, an almost smile in his eyes. Aegis broke out laughing harder.

[Ugh, send me up a wash; I'll buy us an early dinner after.]

The elf nodded and headed for the door.

[Are you going to take your own armor off? We should relax while we can.]

He lifted a brow. [Can we?] he pointed the question.

Aegis cracked her neck and shoulder and then smirked at him, watching him past heavy eyelids that gave her face a certain charismatic wisdom despite its youth. "You are going to trance, not sleep," she decided in a gentle tease, "and you are going to trance in full armor, with your bow in your lap and an arrow in your hand."

Kivan nodded an affirmative and Aegis chuckled.

"I hope when the bandits are scattered and Tazok's dead that you one day feel comfortable enough to actually _rest_ again."

Kivan's face quieted. He regarded her for a moment with a dark and almost wraithlike emptiness to him. Kivan would rest peacefully in death; not before.

"Kivan..." she murmured apologetically, feeling as if she'd said something insensitive. but the name hadn't fully left her lips and the elf was already out the door and headed intot he inn proper. It was very hard to offer one's best wishes to a man who felt guilty just for being alive, she realized.

..

* * *

"J-jaheira, my love, I think I see it."

It was a small diversion from their route, but the married duo had been asked to get a good look at an airborn creature that appeared to be heading west. Harper agents had first spotted it south of the great desert, but they'd been unable to identify it. Now hundreds of miles further west, it has scarcely trained trajectory.

"They're right it's too small to be a dragon," the druid noted with a frown. "But it's not a wyvren either..."

"Well it appears to be g-glowing slightly," her husband chuckled. "So I can see everyone's c-cause for alarm."

Jaheira watched as the winged shape continued onward, riding the air gracefully high above them and still quite a ways east. It's high altitude was giving them a long look at the creature, if not necessarily a good one. "Well it's late. It must have landed to sleep during the day. That would suggest it is no demon."

They waited for some time, as Jaheira began working with the surrounding birds. She was going to send one up to have a look. "J-jaheira!" The druid paused, looking first to Khalid and then upward.

The creature was descending rapidly. "It can't possibly be heading towards us," she muttered. "Come swiftly, let us try and intercept where it lands!"

..

* * *

When Branwen had also finished her bath, she came up to find Xan curled up atop the bed, a content expression on his face. He hadn't dressed, and looked like he might fall asleep right where he was.

His hair was curling slightly as it dried. It was perhaps the most charismatic and well-behaved hair she had ever met; with not an inch looking unintended our out of place even when it had simply sprawled about him as he'd flopped onto the covers. She was quite jealous of it. It hadn't even required much combing. Why couldn't human women have hair like that?

"Lunch-dinner's as soon as I finish dressing," she teased as she settled on the edge of the bed and began pulling on a fresh tunic over her chemise. "Will be you joining us looking like that, little man?"

He rolled his eyes, pushing hair out of his face in a manner that would have done a nymph proud, and propped himself up slightly on one elbow. "I think I would be quite happy to simply remain here," he said, stretching his legs out lazily.

Branwen glanced at him with a smirk. She was reluctant to force her elf back to ground level when he was clearly so comfortable with himself and with her at the moment. As she finished lacing her tunic, she reached over and snagged one slender leg by the ankle. Xan squeaked as she pulled him clear across the blankets and onto his stomach. She stole his foot in this manner, keeping hold of it by the ankle and then kneading firmly over the balls of the feet, heels, toes, and arch.

Xan got up on his elbows and looked back at her inquisitively, a soft murmur of enjoyment leaking from his lips. He tried to roll over to sit up, but she held firm and hoarded his feet and calves to herself such that he could only twist onto his side, even with all his flexibility. When he looked slightly nervous, she picked up the towel she'd used on her hair and cast it over him like a drape for modesty. This amused him, and he leaned his chin on his hands, his eyelids lowering.

"You are spoiling me Nildoen nin," he chuckled, easing hair out of his face again. "I have yet to create an Ever-Full Plate of Ham for you."

"Then you are to eat normal meals with me up until that time," she teased, rubbing his feet and admiring him for all of his traits: strong, soft, gloomy, gentle, masculine, girlish, and otherwise.

He sighed dramatically, reaching up and playing with her hair. "As you wish, Lady of the Isle," he agreed with an adoring smile, his thin but calloused fingers drifting down to her back to seek out knots or areas of strain.

..

* * *

Imoen wasn't sure how late she ought to stay up when they had a trip to Thalantyr's in the morning. She ate with Kivan and Aegis and then, with nothing much to occupy herself with that evening, she requested the following:

"Kivan, will you go with me to the archery range while I practice for an hour or so?"

The elf tilted his head to the side and then nodded, standing to accompany her out. Aegis considered joining them to protect Kivan from a pink waif who had a weakness for interesting elves. Then she recalled one of her wizards was still studying upstairs, and decided to stay.

Enjoying a cup of wine on her own and missing her eccentric boyfriend, Aegis tried to figure out how she was going to be responsible for so many people who all either hated each other or else easily provoked one another. There had to be _some_ way of keeping them calm and united against adversity.

Kagain and Ajantis had each been driven by the same desire to slay bandits, and yet the two had come to blows. Kagain's pragmatism and Ajantis' preoccupation with _eeevvviiilll_ had just traveled onward to a disastrous conclusion.

Dynaheir, who ordinarily Aegis would have described as level-headed and noble, had called on an elite cable of draconian women rather than simply talking to Aegis; and in the process had maimed her fellow party member and then fled the scene.

Then there was Edwin himself who, despite having the most tenuous bond to the party, had been content to sit in the back flinging fireballs and invective until Viconia had gone and given him a little push over the edge.

Which brought up the issue of Viconia, who seemed driven to acts of manipulation and cruelty as if they were some type of comforting mental solace. Even if she had learned a lesson about betraying the people she cared about, she still might end up provoking Kivan; and then, Aegis imagined, things would get very sad and very ugly.

Next came Shar-Teel who had little real reason to be with the party aside from the humiliation of being toppled by a seventy-pound enchanter. She _did_ seem to like hunting bandits. But her repeated assaults on Ajantis had no doubt contributed to his frustration and indirectly led to Kagain's death.

Aegis knew she could trust Imoen not to kill anyone, but apparently she couldn't even count on Xan to leave the business of levying capital punishments to _her_ discretion. And Xan and Branwen were two of the most stable mainstays in the party.

The ranger woman sighed, frustrated and upset. She felt like she had lost control of her party, and for once she wasn't certain how to regain it. She'd used up all her old tactics. The ranger felt uneasy then, and sort of powerless. What she wanted more than _anything _in the world was to protect the people who were following her. The problem was, however, they weren't coming to _her _to set things right. They were constantly feeling alone and taking matters into their own hands.

Aegis stayed at the dinner table and pondered these thoughts and many others for a long while.

..

* * *

"Fiesty One, step back! This evil beast shall not harm you!"

"No, Minsc! She is no enemy! Stay your sword!"

Jaheira and Khalid shared a look of disbelief as they bolted forward into the clearing and past a smell tent. Minsc was standing there with his sword drawn and Dynaheir at his side. Before them was the half-elf couple's mysterious quarry: an enormous, dire bat.

The animal was the size of a small horse, and its massive wings would have stretched forty feet across if they had been fully spread. It was clinging to the boughs and trunks of the surrounding trees, whistling in an agitated, high-pitched twitter. A blue-green smoke seemed to ooze up from its fur, and it seemed to be wearing some kind of helm or covering on its head. Jaheira placed it as female.

"Dynaheir! M-minsc!" Khalid exclaimed, as he and his wife hurried up to join the Rashemi. "How did you c-come to be alone?"

"Khalid! Jaheira!" the Wychlaran exclaimed, delighted but worried about the strange bat. "It is a long story! Do not harm this creature!"

Jaheira nodded. "What is she? We were just trying to get a look, to see if we could quickly identify her!"

"She is a Spirit of Rashemen!" Dynaheir explained with a tone of confusion and wonder in her voice. "I know not what has possessed her; she should not be so far from home!"

The druid frowned up at the beast. "She is no ghost. Perhaps she is hungry; give me a moment to try and calm her..."

..

* * *

A knock came at Edwin's door. He scowled. "What is it now!?"

It was not Imoen who answered. "Mind if I come in?"

Edwin perked up, looking at the door in surprise. "(As if one sister was not enough. What the devil could she want?)" Then he snatched up Gorion's spellbook, slammed it shut, and stuffed it under his pillow. "Enter."

Aegis stepped in and came up beside him. She settled down a plate of food on the bed beside him, and a cup of wine down on the edge of the desk. "Sorry for the interruption. I just wanted to know how you were doing."

"I was fine until three seconds ago," he muttered, glancing at the offerings with an appreciation he did not feel inclined to voice.

"You know, I believed you when you said you only attacked Dynaheir when you thought your life was in immediate peril," the ranger told him.

He tilted his head slightly and tapped his nails on the parchment. "I do not break my word lightly," he aknowlecdged. "Is that all?"

"That's not _entirely_ what tipped me off. Wizards are jealous creatures; they don't share magic lightly." His eyes narrowed. "You were expecting to be around longer."

"Do you have anything interesting to say, or can I go back to work?" he asked irritably.

"Dynaheir was my responsibility and I was her leader. I marched my party days off our path, without pay, after a man who talks to hamsters, all to rescue _her_. I expected a bit more from her than keeping information from me, nearly murdering you, and slipping off in the middle of the night."

"You think this is the only time she's 'withheld information'? Tch. Dynaheir represents her coven; her mother is its leader; and her quest here must be very specific. As incidental as meeting you might seem, she _stayed_ with your party. And as such, I suspect she knows much more about your 'Horned Man' than she lets on."

Aegis hesitated, remembering Xzar's words about trusting organizations. Was it possible that Dynaheir had come from her homeland in search of Bhaalspawn? Did the Wychlaran know what Aegis was? She still had to respond to Edwin.

"I... I _blame_ you for inciting her. That level of molestation was uncalled for," Aegis told him. "And I blame _her_ for the coven trying to kill you. But after all that, I still don't want either of you to die."

Edwin leaned forward, eyeing her curiously. "You've learned something about your assassins that you're not sharing. Interesting. So... you want me to accept the geas in exchange for Dynaheir's aid? Well you don't always get what you want. My answer is still no."

"She knows you keep your word. It doesn't have to be a geas," Aegis pointed out.

He folded his clawed hands together and bridged the forefingers thoughtfully. "Some tasks, once accepted, cannot easily be cast aside," he told her.

Aegis straightened. She regarded him a moment and then nodded. "I'd doubted you'd pick mental oblivion over pride. Well then, we will keep you safe until you're _healed_, Edwin. But no one hopes you'll succeed at murdering someone who means you no harm. If you leave to go after her, it'll be an abuse of our goodwill."

He sneered irritably, turning his attention back to his work.

Aegis looked over at Imoen's pack. Then she looked to the Red Wizard. "She'll miss you."

He smirked. "I would be willing to repay you for ensuring I am healed," he said after a moment. "When my business with the Wychlaran is conducted, I could return to serve your party as its conjurer again. The term could be, say, up until your father's murderer lies dead."

"A lot of people care about Dynaheir; asking them to work with you if you'd killed her would be crazy." The ranger shook her head and gestured at Imoen's cot. "I've known her all our lives, and I never saw anything hit her as hard as Montaron did."

"I am hardly betraying either of you," he muttered, irritated she'd steered the conversation back to her sister. It suggested a perceptiveness towards his plans that he did not want to credit her with.

"You are if you're going to try murdering her friend," Aegis advised him. Edwin frowned. "Anyway, I'll let you be. Don't forget to eat."

..

* * *

Kivan let Imoen try out his longbow, but the weapon had so much tension in the string that Imoen could barely draw it. She taught him how her bowstaff worked in exchange. They returned to the inn when it was too late to see the targets any longer, in high spirits. Kivan joined Aegis. Imoen smiled momentarily at them.

She decided to sneak out and find some companionship for herself that evening, and returned a few hours later happy and freshly bathed. Her time out had been nice, and she'd washed her hair and let the braids out. When she headed upstairs with a mug of fresh coffee, she found her wizard where she'd left him, plus an empty plate and a drained cup. At least he'd eaten. She settled the dishes on the ground, gave him the coffee, and sat to watch him work as she dressed down for the evening.

"Slow going?"

He didn't answer, but it looked like he'd hit a puzzle that kept sending him in circles. Now was probably not the time to offer him 'insights.' Instead, Imoen pulled out Elminster's riddle and swiveled about to recline on the length of cot he wasn't using. She crossed her knees and used them as a lectern. "I'll stay up to keep you company, then."

Edwin glanced at her briefly and took a sip of his coffee. It had been loaded with cream. He hardly needed company, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment then dealing with her.

..

* * *

The gargantuan bat had climbed forward on her spindly forearms, releasing the trees to investigate Jaheira's offering of _Goodberries_. The 'helmet' covering her lupine face appeared to be some tribal mask. After a moment, she bowed her head to lap the food off the ground with a long and pointed tongue.

[There you go, sweet lady of the land,] Jaheira praised humbly. "Dynaheir, has she attempted to communicate her purpose here to you?"

The witch tried to look non-threatening as she approached and answered. "No. She has not yet spoken. She may be weak or at least disoriented so far from Rashemen." Dynaheir considered the beautiful creature. "It... It must have been something very powerful which compelled her to leave."

Khalid tilted his head to the side. "Why is she w-wearing a mask?" he wondered aloud.

"That is a Hathran mask!" Minsc was happy to know something other people did not. "It is for big magic ladies to wear back home! Only the _best_ witches have them!"

"Perhaps she wears the mask as a memorial in honor of one dead," Dynaheir thought compassionately. The mask had been painted white with spiraling wings around the eye sockets and cheeks, a design which looked familiar somehow. It was worn and tattered now, however, with cracks visible along the length and two holes bored through the forehead.

The bat finished her meal and licked clean her maw. She propped herself up, her wing fingers jutting outwards like scythes of flesh. Dark eyes shifted from Druid to Wychlaran. When Jaheira approached her murmuring in the languages of life and earth, the Spirit bowed her mighty head and permitted herself to be touched. The half elf touched her throat, jowls, and ears.

"She seems healthy," the druid decided. "For a creature giving off blue and green fire, that is. But there is something off about her eyes; a canniness beyond wisdom. What do you have to tell us, beautiful madam?" The lupine beast's ears perked up and she blinked slowly at the two women. "Why have you come to be here?" The beast's eyes settled on Dynaheir, and turned introspective.

A moment passed in silence as Dynaheir carefully approached. She touched the Hathran mask reverently. "We are here to listen, my Sister. Tell us what has moved thee and we shall assist."

"Three Days," the great bat rumbled softly into their minds. They were taken aback by how intelligent and elegant her voice sounded. Hers was more the voice of a humanoid than the growl of a beast.

..

* * *

Montaron straightened as the pidgeon swept down into the tavern, alighting on Xzar's shoulder. "The hell did ye send a letter out?" he asked suspiciously.

Xzar's eyes widened and he grabbed at the bird. It turned into an envelope thick with paper. He was momentarily stunned by the thickness of it. Then he tore it open with glee and eased the many folded sheets out. He took quick count. There were no less than ten hand-written sheets in Aegis' careful and studious Candlekeep print.

An exclamation of joy escaped his lips and he hugged the paper to himself, cackling gleefully.

Montaron scowled. "What did ye _do_?" he growled.

"She still loves me!" he squealed. The halfling jerked back. Then his jaw dropped.

"That's from-?"

Xzar giggled. He looked from Montaron to the sheets and then back again. Then with a flamboyant toss of his chin, he carefully picked out the eleventh sheet and extended it out. The thief frowned. "This one's in pink ink," he noted.

The halfling's expression didn't change. He look from Xzar to the paper, and then back again. Then his brow furrowed and he reached forward slowly. He hesitated a moment, and then snatched the paper and turned it about to inspect it.

_Griswold Winthrop's Famous Cheese Sauce, for Sanwiches_ it read, followed by a list of ingredients and preparation methods, and recommended sandwiches upon which to use it.

The halfling sat quietly for a moment. Xzar did not start reading his own letter yet, leaning curiously to the side to see what would happen. The assassin's mouth twitched.

Then, with a tremendously loud, _"FUCK!" _and a backhanded slam that sent food and ale flying to the floor, Montaron stood up and stomped angrily out of the tavern.

Xzar grinned toothily. Quite happy and content with how things had gone, he leaned back in his chair and propped up his letter. He knew Aegis wasn't the fastest author in the world, and he wanted to read each word with the same care in which it had been written.

..

* * *

The Red Wizard settled down the quill a little shakily, rubbing the fingers of both his hands. He had asked Imoen for her last _Scholar_ potion out at around midnight. He had two hours before its effects wore off.

His eyes were heavy. Days were not kind on travelers and dungeon delvers to begin with. Life-threatening problems and sleepless evenings didn't help; and he'd become keenly aware that was no longer eighteen years old. Adrenaline simply didn't give him that degree of raw metabolic power anymore.

Edwin ran his nails slowly over the page of his spellbook, careful not to disturb the fresh ink. As much as he wanted to believe that he'd finally transcribed the spell, he feared his exhaustion might be playing tricks on his mind. What if he was wrong? Bitterly, he considered that he ought to have waited for morning. Dynaheir was not the only task in which he had demonstrated foolish impatience lately.

He glanced at Gorion's spellbook with mixed loathing and appreciation. Of course it would be a _Harper's _spell that had defied him at such a humiliating hour. It was clear to Edwin now that Gorion had verged on archwizardry; his handiwork was as expressive as Rauric calligraphy; twisted, streamlined, and abstracted into an aesthetically beautiful shape. At another time, having access to this spellbook would have been a nice treat.

Now that he believed he understood it, dared Edwin cast it? One supposed he had no choice. He'd spent the last hour looking for errors, but if there any to be found then his frantic mind was blind to them. Assuming no catastrophic side effects, he'd still have to wait a full two hours before seeing if the spell had worked.

The Thayvian took in a long breath of air and let it out slowly. Then he looked down at his roommate. She had fallen asleep a few hours ago with her temple against his thigh and the blankets pulled up to her ears. Without thinking, he reached down to smooth her hair back from her face. His mind rested, floating and empty of thoughts for a few minutes as he recovered his energy for the casting. Fingers caressed through chestnut hair. Nails quietly teased apart small tangles.

_Sweet, silly child... _

_What am I supposed to do with you, eh? You have put me in a contradiction. I have no intention of failing my mission; and yet I have no intention of surrendering you._

He tilted his head to the side, caressing through her hair as he crossed his forearms in his lap and watched her breathe. _You would not like Thay, I know, nor me if I took you there. But you would adapt swiftly enough. I could protect you from its dangers, and cultivate your talents. And you would learn to see Thay and my actions as I see them: as a gift to a budding young mage._

A bitter smile quirked his lips, his hand pausing gently upon her head. Her hair was soft and light compared to Rashemi locks. _I wonder if an old battlemage convinced himself of something vaguely similar once. Might explain how he'd come to have her down there in the first place._

Even a whiff of those vivid memories elevated his pulse. The Red Wizard grimaced and withdrew his hand, rubbing his shoulder. He was too exhausted for such thoughts.

He'd put the old monk's spellbook away, cast the spell, and then try to get some sleep. If his magic was going to fail him that evening, he'd rather not know. At least if he was asleep when the stupidity hit, he wouldn't be subject to the disconcerting emptiness of it.

His apprentice would, remarkably, help no matter what condition he rose in.

..

* * *

"Three days," the bat echoed."As three days elapse, so shall the curse."

Jaheira blinked in surprise. "Do you know what she's talking about?"

Dynaheir's brows furrowed and she shook her head. "No. The only think I can think of, off hand, doesn't fit," she explained.

"W-what's happened?" Khalid wanted to know. "W-why are you and Minsc alone?"

"There was an... an incident," Dynaheir explained swiftly, not wanting to lose the Spirit's attention. "My conflict with a certain Thayvian grew violent, and I fled."

This seemed to jar the bat to higher intellectual awareness. "There will be retribution, my Sister. Five will hunt where once was one."

Dynaheir froze, her eyes widening. "Five... Red Wizards?," she breathed in Rashemi. Quite suddenly, relying on Edwin's lack of divination magic was no longer feasible!

"This warning I bring thee," the bat answered, touching her nose gently to the Wychlaran's brow. "Survive, my sister. By the love of your people and the power of your land, survive and prosper in all darkness."

"I.. _thank you_," Dynaheir murmured. "Thank you. But... but surely you did not come all this way for my sake? I do not even know you, Spirit..."

The bat stretched out her wings, looking distracted. Jaheira summoned up fresh berried and they waited for her to eat and calm herself. "She reminds me of a druid who had been lost too long to animal form," Jaheira noted. "The soul within does not quite match the body."

"She _might_ have been a Familiar once," the Wychlaran realized. "Perhaps what you sense is the spiritual remains of the Hathran she once called matron. But this still does not explain why she has come all this way..."

The bat looked up at them, her eyes wolf-like and soft. "For the sake of a mother's babe," she rumbled. "Met but twice. By my breath, the curse shall be broken."

"She must have been drawn to me on her journey," Dynaheir noted. "I do not know of any child, but I am Wychlaran. It is my duty to help the Spirits of my homeland, and I shall-" she cut off abruptly, a startled expression widening her eyes. Then she touched the tattered white mask gently. Her fingers eased upwards, across the aged wood, until they reached one of the two holes at the brow. It was roughly the size and shape of a nail.

"Something has occurred to you?" Jaheira asked.

Dynaheir was silent a long moment. "She is a Mulhorandi fruit bat," the Wychlaran murmured, staring at the wing-like marks sprawling out from the eyes of the mask. She sounded dazed and hushed.

The bat huffed and then slowly pushed herself backwards, stretching out her great wings again. The ensuing flap incurred a gust that almost drove them to their knees. Jaheira tried to call the creature to rest, but the Spirit gave another great beat of her wings, using the force to leap up into the trees. Her reversed feet clutched tightly at bowing tree tops. Then with a lunge and a heavy stroke of her arms, she was airborne.

Dynaheir watched her go, stunned, sad. She turned her gaze to the ground and clutched her arms, involuntarily remembering clawed fingers on her skin. She knew she _had_ seen those wing marks on the Hathran mask elsewhere; only then, they'd been covered in leeches.


	41. Denial

You likely noticed this chapter took awhile. I may be running out of steam, or this chapter might just have given me trouble in particular. Fave or follow so you can keep track of it! Anyway, here it is!

..

* * *

**Denial**

..

* * *

Aegis was still shifting restlessly when Kivan entered the room and settled down on his cot. He did not so much as remove his boots, crossing his legs over the covers to take reverie. When he noticed she was awake and watching him, he tilted his head to the side. He was a handsome thing, the way wolves or hawks were handsome. The almond shape of the eyes spoke of nature.

[Your mind wanders to your kittens,] he noticed.

She smiled. [Missing Xzar, too. His smell, his heat, the sound of his breathing...] she mumbled tiredly. The elf's gaze softened and lost focus, as if he were looking into the past. [I- I'm sorry-!] she realized this might not have been the best topic.

He shook his head a moment before looping his legs off the bed and shifting over to her cot. Surprised, she made room for him as he crossed his legs again. [You speak not of him. At times you sound confused or ashamed.]

[I... don't think you'd understand.]

[I would still listen.]

Aegis hesitated.

[Trade you stories?] the Shillmistian bartered.

Her eyes widened appreciatively. [Deal.]

..

* * *

When a knock came on Viconia's door early that moment, she went to answer it out of curiosity. There she found the company's paladin, naked as the day he was born. She took the moment to liberally run her eyes up and down the length of him. He had a wide-eyed and far-off expression on his face.

"Why?" he asked her meekly.

Viconia broke out laughing for a few seconds. Then, when Ajantis' expression didn't change and he neither insulted her nor fled; when he did nothing more than stand there reeling from the weight of his actions; her chuckled simmered down to nothing. She spent a perplexed moment trying to decipher meaning from his face. Then a spurt of annoyance overcame her, and she sighed irritably. "Well, come get dressed," she suggested, standing wide of the door.

Ajantis still did not move The moment drew out awkwardly before she stepped forward again, grasped the man's arm, and slowly tugged him inside. He followed her like a docile sheep. She ended up having to hand him each piece of clothing before he'd dress himself.

..

* * *

Imoen woke up to find herself comfortably pillowed against living heat. Stirred from groggy slumber, she looked up to see Jackal yanking on a mouthful of her hair. He must have heard someone knocking and had been trying to wake her.

"I'm up," she yawned tremendously, closing her eyes and stretching a bit. Then the clear obstacles to her stretching coupled with the smell of peppers and spice prompted her to take further stock of her surroundings. She found that she had been using Edwin's hip as a pillow. The conjurer was out cold, an arm curled under his pillow to bundle it against his face and shut out the light of dawn. He'd managed to get his legs up onto the cot alongside her, despite how her curled posture had taken up most of the horizontal space.

Imoen blinked sleepily, rubbed her face, and then blearily tried to prop herself up. _Guess he didn't master the spell in time, then._ She didn't imagine he could have fallen asleep like this with all that _intellect_ in the way, hehe. But if he hadn't finished it, then the onus was on Imoen to learn it alone or else find more potions. That was gonna be rough.

Well, if he was still disabled, it didn't matter how tired he was; she really couldn't leave him alone. She scooted into a sitting position beside him and then leaned over to gently shake his arm. "Edwin?" she called. Her Red Wizard didn't move. She shook his shoulder a little more vigorously. He reflexively warded her off with one arm. Imoen pinched him on the underside.

Edwin jumped slightly with a sharp exhale. Then his brows moved together as he took in a slow, deep, waking breath. She shook his shoulder gently as he started to shift about. "Hey, Edwin... Wakey wakey."

"Is it... morning...?" he mumbled disapprovingly in Thorasta.

"Edwin!" she exclaimed in surprise, getting up on her knees to look down at him. "It worked? You did it!" He grimaced at the sound of her voice, batting a hand tiredly at the air in her direction. "What time did you fall asleep?" she laughed.

Edwin didn't answer, worming slightly in place, finally calm enough to express that the last few days had kicked the crap out of him. Imoen chuckled in understanding, rubbing gently over his hair and shoulder. Then she seized a lock of hair and gave a sharp tug. He grunted attentively and smeared his face into his forearm.

"D'ya want to sleep yourself out this morning, or come to Thalantyr's?" she asked him.

He twisted slightly to look up at her, red-rimmed eyes opening to narrowed, dehydrated slits. "If... if I miss a casting..." he muttered tiredly.

"You've got Jackal for that, ya know," she teased.

"Yes, yes..." he grimaced, trying feebly to prop himself up. She leaned around to see if she could find what had happened to the rooms complementary water pitcher. A few moments later she sat back up with a damp and folded washcloth and brought it to his temple.

"I done recognize that face," she teased, gently dabbing his forehead, cheeks, and eyelids. "That's the 'six in the morning was totally the best time to finish studying for that quiz at eight' face."

Edwin, who appeared flummoxed by the fact that someone was patting his face with cool water to make him feel better, didn't immediately say anything. Then he tilted his head to the side. "Thank you."

Imoen paused, staring at him for a moment, surprised. He watched her somberly. A moment of unvoiced understanding passed between the two companions, and she nodded.

..

* * *

When Imoen arrived on the ground floor, she found Kivan weaving and oiling Aegis' hair to keep it from getting caught in her armor. It was a sight both cute and ominous; The last person to have done this was Kagain.

But Kivan wasn't the only elf on the ground floor that evening. Xan was talking quietly but rapidly in elvish.

Imoen pursed her lips to the side and glanced at Edwin, who raised a brow at her and then sneered in Xan's direction. She smirked and patted the Red Wizard's arm reassuringly. The conjurer nodded and she hopped ahead to listen in. Edwin headed over to get breakfast from the bar. Kivan and Aegis both noticed Imoen and Edwin (and were curious about the latter), but Xan did not.

[Aegis, the solution can be simple,] the enchanter was speaking in a rush. [Geasing Edwin in this condition would make it more straightforward to heal him and return him to his homeland, without injuring either wizard.]

Imoen's eyes widened, a scowl appearing on her face. She reached up and yanked sharply on his hair. When he turned about, she slapped him to startled the hell out of him.

"What are you _doing_?" she hissed angrily as he stumbled back a step, his cyan eyes wide. "Haven't you learned anything!? How long have you _been_ here making these 'recommendations' behind my back?!"

"Imoen!" Aegis called sternly. "None of that. I _am_ the one person he can talk to no matter his concerns. Is that clear?" Imoen opened her mouth to argue. Aegis raised her brows in warning. The younger sister deflated slightly and scowled at the ground. "Good. Xan, are you alright?"

"I'm _sure_ he's alright," Branwen noted sleepily. Where she came from, punches were an acceptable means of solving many social conflicts, and Imoen had once boasted of having all the upper arm strength of overcooked pasta.

The enchanter rubbed his cheek and then nodded. "I'm fine... I wanted to talk to her regardless. I-Imoen... _look_. Enough. You can't just pretend ignorance of Edwin intentions and wipe your hands of blame."

Imoen placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes up at the enchanter, mad that such conversations had not ended the day before. "Ya don't find this ironic after the conversation you had with him yesterday?" she growled.

Xan sighed. "Right now? I want my friends to survive the weekend." Imoen's lack of foresight was getting ominous, especially with the message Dynaheir had just sent to him.

"Edwin is _my_ friend," Imoen responded in a low and measured voice. "It doesn't matter that _you_ hate him. Ya can't pick my friends _for_ me. Now, either hate me too, or stop going behind my back. That's how this works."

Aegis hadn't thought _Imoen_ would be one of the people she'd need to trust her more. A glance at Edwin confirmed the conjurer was somehow in possession of himself that morning, and could now defend himself.

"Your 'friend'..." Xan heaved in exasperation. "That man does not even treat you like a living person. He intends to commit murder, he doesn't care about you, and he is not your friend. Do you think nothing for the people who truly love you?" Branwen glanced over at the elf and lifted a brow.

"Look here, you polarized-" Imoen began angrily.

"_Kwefai_, is the enchanter trying to geas me?" Edwin asked tiredly, coming up beside her and setting down breakfast. Xan jumped a few inches to the side, eyes widening in surprise at the conjurer's lucidity. Edwin quirked an eyebrow and then sat down and pushed a loaded plate over to Imoen.

The thief glanced downward. Edwin's plate was heaped with a colorful onion and peppers omelet and various spiced meats. The plate he'd pushed to her, however, contained pancakes with butter and blueberry syrup, sunny-side up eggs, apple slices, yogurt, and a lemon tart.

"You've spoken in my native tongue!" Imoen squealed, Xan and enchantments forgotten as she hopped into her chair to dine by the shovel-full; all the while making delighted noises the bordered on the sinful.

Aegis broke out laughing. "Imm! Slow down before you hurt yourself. Really! Yes, really." She grinned at her pouting sister and then looked to the conjurer at her side. "Well, then. Good morning, Edwin. Are you cured?"

"It is a spell; an interim solution," Edwin muttered, glancing at Xan and stabbing up his omelet with a fork. "Don't worry, elf, the Monkey is very_ cranky_ when hungry," the Thayvian explained with a sneer. "I am sure she will be much friendlier after breakfast. Though you never know; perhaps you should carry around some snacks for emergencies?"

Xan frowned incredulously, taking a moment to recover now that the initial surprise of all this had worn the party's only other wizard, apparently he was the only one concerned with how Edwin had pulled this off, or where this new spell had come from. Imoen, bless her good nature, may have just discarded their last hope of resolving the situation peacefully.

Noticing the expression on her wizard's face, Branwen reached over and grabbed Xan by the shoulder, gently drawing him away so she could speak with him. "I'd like to have a word with you about food," she told him, glancing at Imoen's plate as she spoke.

That knocked Xan out of his single-minded focus. "You've already eaten breakfast!" he protested in alarm. The cleric just laughed and tugged him off.

{Edwin,} Imoen piped up past a mouthful of pancake, {can you teach me that _Burning Hands_ variant where it just warms stuff?}

The conjurer didn't turn from his food. {You want a broken spell variant?} he asked between mouthfuls. {Why?}

{Well _you_ know it,} she told him.

{I stumbled into many variants of _Burning Hands_ over my life. There more more interesting things to do with your limited attention span than learn useless spells.}

Imoen rolled her eyes at Edwin. {Oh come on, just teach me the variant!} When Edwin ignored her, she gave him a pointed look over her breakfast. {Edwin. Do you know a spell variant to heat up your hand to a comfortably warm temperature so that you can use it for masturbation?}

The Red Wizard nearly lost some of his omelet through his nose, coughing and sputtering in surprise. Aegis jumped and nearly reached over to give him a hefty pat on the back when she recalled the touchy Thayvian probably wouldn't appreciate. He got his choking under control, and then grabbed the rear of his chair and slowly turned about to stare at Imoen as if simultaneously scandalized and trying to make sure he had heard her correctly.

Imoen lifted a brow, and crossed her arms over her chest, a knowing smile ghosting her lips. Only some foreign, draconian noble could be so_ sure_ men and women were supposed to be different! {And you are asking me what I want to learn it for _because_...?}

He stared at her blankly a moment more, still resembling a startled deer. Then he shook his head, turned back to his plate, and went back to stabbing up his omelet. Imoen broke out laughing.

"What just happened?" Aegis asked Imoen in surprise.

"He thinks I'm _perverted_!" the thief wheezed out in a cackle, nearly falling out of her chair with laughter. Aegis realized she didn't want to know. "The foul-mouthed man-whore thinks _I'm_ perverted!"

"_Excuse_ me?" the Red Wizard griped indignantly. "The _what_ now?"

..

* * *

"Sis?" Aegis called before they headed out that morning. Imoen blinked attentively up at her. "We need to talk about how you handled Xan. You have honestly got to trust me to act with patience and good judgement when you are not around. You _cannot_ imply other people can't talk to me when they have problems."

"Look, half of everything Xan says right now is a result of his verbal arsenal escalating hour by hour as he tries to convince me this is for my own good," Imoen told her. "It's really getting to me! It's getting way out of proportion with what Edwin did- which was to scare the shit out of someone who isn't even with us right now."

Aegis lifted her hands prohibitively. "Imoen, if Dynaheir had come and talked to me about Edwin, everything would be different right now. Xan wouldn't be anyone's problem. Why do you think she didn't come to me? She might have been worried I wasn't impartial."

Imoen frowned.

"I have to hold this group together," Aegis told her. "Painfully, at times, remember? You are right that I'd shake Xan loose if this was _just_ about you. But it's not. So, keep Edwin safe by keeping him away from infighting. Keep your mood grounded. Do not hit anyone. Participate in what conversations you can. And in general, just trust me. About everything. Because if my own sister can't, how can people like Dynaheir?"

The thief was quiet a long moment. "I... I understand," she realized what Aegis meant. "I'm sorry."

..

* * *

Xan glanced backwards. Edwin leafed through his spellbook for a few moments as they walked before tapping Imoen on the shoulder and then pressing the volume into her hands.

The thief took the book curiously and gave her mentor a smile. {Kivan and Aegis know you can't miss a casting and they'll be tracking the sun for you. Um, but dragon, we really should talk about-}

The wizard sighed. {Monkey, do me a favor and focus on the spell. If something goes wrong, you are the only fail-safe I have...}

Imoen huffed. She looked from him to the spell. {Alright. But we are going to talk about this, you know.} She glanced up as Xan dropped back to speak with them, but surprisingly he did not address Imoen.

"I don't believe you've explained where this spell came from," the enchanter unknowingly rescued the Red Wizard from needing to address Imoen's highly relevant concerns.

Edwin nevertheless glanced over at the enchanter in annoyance. "You know, for an elf who is trying to murder, abandon, or geas me, I think you are already receiving a _great_ deal of my courtesy," the conjurer told him. "But now you wish to be privy to my magic as well? No, no," he gave a wave of his hand and turned his attention back to Imoen, effectively cutting Xan out of the conversation, "go take your ideas and be righteous _elsewhere_, Greycloak. The Helmite makes fewer suppositions than you, and all of them would no doubt be gentler on my mounting headache..."

"Um," Imoen interjected, "Xan, about earlier today. I'm sorry. I had no business butting in, or smacking you."

The enchanter looked to her and then nodded with a sigh, feeling helpless. "It is fine, Imoen; I understood the compulsion to act," he answered diplomatically. Then, seeing that neither of the duo was willing to volunteer any information, he turned from them to walk ahead.

Xan wanted to to protect, correct, and solve; He wanted to set everything _right_. And yet now he was relegated to the outside, insignificant and ignored, as things hurtled forward towards their inadvertently bloody conclusion. Whether he ought to blame Imoen for her innocence, the party for yielding to her, Aegis for setting the group's moral code, or himself for not selecting a better approach, the result was the same:

Edwin would continue on unopposed until his departure damned him. Perhaps the person most to blame for this situation was Edwin himself; for having just enough humanity to be pitiable, and yet not enough to actually change anything.

The enchanter shook his head sullenly as he rejoined Branwen; but when she slipped an arm around him, a curious thing happened. A smile rose unbidden to his lips. A smile! With all that could and would go wrong, with all the ominous weight hanging in the air, a smile! When his cleric saw this unexplained smile, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and of course this immediately made the smile far worse.

"Tell me a story," Branwen suggested. "Something about warriors, if you can."

"I can," he decided after a moment's thought, realizing that anxiety would do him no good whilst waiting, and that Branwen was trying to help him clear his head. "Yes. I shall. Tell me, Branwen, what have you heard of Everska? Do you know our Vale Guard are equipped with enchanted armor that permits flight? Patrols are typically composed of archers, supported by mages, and led by a Blade Singer..."

The woman looked at him in surprise. "This is going to be a _good story_," she realized.

..

* * *

"Alright, what happened, and where is Shar-Teel?" were Aegis' first questions when the group reunited on the way to Thalantyr's. That something was wrong with Ajantis was painfully obvious. He was fully armed and armored, but he stared off at nothing as if in a daze. Viconia was clearly leading him by the elbow.

"Shar-Tell is fine," the drow sighed. "She's sleeping off the evening. I tried throwing ice water on her. She punched me in the eye and then took my bed."

"Then what happened to him!?" The ranger waved a hand in front of Ajantis' face. He looked at her and then off at nothing again.

"He finally found a form of combat he could beat her at. The horizontal kind. Apparently it wasn't the glorious victory one might have hoped for him."

A silence fell over the party; Imoen looked up from Edwin's spellbook with a gape. "Well," the Red Wizard reacted first in a somewhat strangled tone, "I cannot say I would look much different if I had woken up next to that face."

Viconia lifted her brows. "Oh? I see the Thayvian is at least partially restored? Well, there ends _that_ source of entertainment." Edwin actually smirked. "As to Ajantis, the coupling can't have been _this_ terrible," the drow muttered. "The noises coming through the wall clearly indicated some level of enjoyment."

"Note to self, Viconia makes poor wingman," Imoen decided. {Hey, Edwin? I don't think you should ever sleep with that woman.}

He looked tiredly up from the coffee he was keeping warm with his hands. He had brought a whole skin of the stuff. {Is this another attempt to insult my sexual prowess?}

Imoen shook her head, her mouth drawing to one side in a 'trust me on this' grimace as she glanced first at him and then turned back to his spellbook. {A woman like that starts up rumors about a man... Just sayin'.}

{I shall keep in mind your sudden wellspring of concern for my self esteem,} he told her with half a grin.

..

* * *

"My master is in his study," Melicamp explained. "But you can't, bcawww, see him! No one can go in there. Even I have not seen him for days!"

The Candlekeep girls and party wizards all looked at one another.

"He's shut himself in and warded, and threatened to conjure acid storms (cluck) and rain fire on any who dare enter to disturb him! He is in a wrath, (cluck) I tell you! A wrath! And the traps, the traps are, bcawww, everywhere!"

There was silence for a moment.

"Well then," Edwin said, turning to face Imoen and dusting her off. "Goodluck, Monkey, hope everything goes well, we are all counting on you, and so forth. Now, be off with you."

Xan lifted a brow. Imoen grinned and moved to hop off but the Red Wizard grabbed her shoulders again.

"Wait, wait. Do not provoke him into turning into any form of dragon, waif." He shook a finger sternly at her suprised expression. "Yes, I know you. Behave."

"Awww..." she whined. "Okaaayyy..."

"It is dangerous to go alone," Aegis said, coming up to them and placing a confused, talking chicken on Imoen's head, "take this!"

"B-but! (cluck!)"

The thief giggled. "Don't worry Melicamp, I'll show you my elite moves! With two master thieves we can't go wrong," Imoen cooed, looking to her sister. "Come with me near the entryway at least, Aegy, I might need a door broken down."

"You've got it," the ranger agreed, cracking her knuckles.

..

* * *

As the group settled in to wait, Edwin moved off to sit across the sanctum from the rest of the party. He did not particularly enjoy their company, and he wanted some quiet as he tried to keep himself conscious. It was awhile before Viconia slowly meandered over to his side of the room and, by her predatory smile, Edwin wagered she needed a less altruistic mind to help settle her mood after coddling Ajantis all morning.

"Well," she purred. "You and your little 'apprentice' are getting along quite _adorably_."

"Do you realize that every time you speak with me, you want to talk about the pink child? This perplexes me, Nightflower. Are you... simply jealous of my attention, or does the plump, juvenile, coin-snatcher actually make you feel threatened somehow?"

"Arrogant swine," she chuckled.

He grinned. "Oh, hush now dear, such insecurity is based in nonsense. You are mysterious as smoky opal and exotic as blue diamond. Do not bother your lovely head over copper-gilt babies and labor workers."

"Ah, but Edwin, half of everything you _do_ involves your apprentice these days. It makes me wonder: why aren't you more disappointed to be leaving your darling little bedwarmer behind?" she asked as she sat down beside him.

"Mm? Well, perhaps I will savor that look of shattered doe-eyed innocence on her face as I depart," he suggested with a wry smile. "It _does_ disappoint me to be leaving _you_ behind prematurely. I should have liked more time to enjoy your venomous nettles."

"Thayvian," she purred seeing through his evasions like they were clear crystal. "Tell me, are you poised to _abduct_ your little purple waif?"

That caught his attention. "Perhaps..." he answered slowly, watching her with narrowed eyes. "Though I am uncertain why the topic interests _you_."

"Come now, Edwin, I love intrigue," she insisted, sidling up against him. "Entertain me; I shall forgive all bad blood that's flowed between us."

The conjurer smiled at her own transparency. "I do not remember that you make the most reliable partner in intrigue," he reminded the woman.

The drow waved a hand, absolving him for such remarks. "Before, you were hoping Imoen would come willingly. Now you have nothing to lose, so you should extract the maximum benefit possible. What else could you be intending?"

He eyed her past heavy lids, half amused and half bored. "I am on the cusp of demanding two minutes of sexually charged invective for every one in which you subject me to the sound of your husky murmurs _wasted_ on discussing thieves."

"A mage-thief," she reminded him. "See, this is exactly why you ought to be sleeping with your 'apprentice:' Even an amateur seduction can lend traction to a manipulation."

He laughed. "I am hardly a palace courtesan. I'll leave that expertise to ladies like yourself," he added with a wink.

She made a face and muttered something in drow he was sure was emasculating. "Well I am sure you still have other cards to play," she pointed out. "Come now, will you really leave your prize for some other wizard to claim?"

That last seemed to dent the Red Wizard's armor, because he glowered and did not immediately answer.

Viconia smiled, and it appeared that she had finally hooked into him the way she'd initially intended. She leaned very near "You've threatened me with murder, once," she reminded him in a whisper. "You are _fond_ of Imoen, Red Wizard. It reads in the tone of _everything_ you do."

"She is my apprentice, Nightflower. Thalantyr is bending magic over backwards to fix his silly chicken. There is no more to read into the matter."

"I've woken to find you sleeping against her not only while stupid but also the evening before. And I see you fondness impacts your decisions most humorously. You are... _loathed_ to hurt her, aren't you?"

His eyes narrowed again, but his voice conveyed less of his typically nasal-sounding irritation than she might have expected: "You really connect dots between an isolated incident and actions taken whist disabled? Viconia, I _always_ do what is best for _me._"

The drow smirked. "Then you must be in denial about where this all leads. You are never going to see her again; so you should be disappointed you've lost."

"Eh..." he mused, his gaze turning pensively outward. She smiled.

"Edwin..." she began, "what are you doing?" she asked almost fondly. "Did you-" she couldn't help the laugh that escaped her, "did you honestly believe you could earn or inspire her _loyalty_?" A pause. "Like her sister does? Or even like Dynaheir?"

A moment past in stillness. Then he looked back to her face, quiet now that she had cut through all of his side-steps and bluster.

"Oh, Edwin, come now. You are the wrong sort of man. You are power and cunning; not hearth or magnetism. As an heir of Thay, you take what you want and bind it to your will. You've no need to fuss over the affections of peasants. It is not like you could ever owe them anything. And who would ever follow or obey _you_ out of _love, _mmh?"

"Power and cunning..." he mused, but his tone carried only a ghost of teasing haughtiness. He was watching her with rapt attention, and his quiet expression had grown almost entirely blank. The drow smirked and leaned near his ear to whisper, and the husky sound of her bordered on the erotic.

"Just geas her or take her; ply your craft; employ enchantments and knives; use her lingering trust to get into her head; and make of her what you wish. If you fail, extract what consolation you can; she's worth more broken than left behind, no?" Edwin tilted his head to the side and she chuckled. "And em, do_ enjoy_ yourself, Edwin." She pat his arm with a conspiratorial grin. "Rarely does one get the satisfaction of breaking something anywhere near as annoying as that girl. But common blood exists for the amusement of noble."

"Noted," the conjurer answered in a voice devoid of inflection.

With her piece said, the Shar cleric stood, still smiling, and sauntered quietly back to the rest of the party. Edwin watched her go, his eyes still narrowed intensely and his face still blank. White knuckled fingers still clutched tightly about the hilt of his belt dagger.

..

* * *

Imoen unloaded the majority of her bag of holding out over the floor of High Hedge, placing down nearly a hundred books for the archwizard's inspection, as well as countless scrolls, fragments of parchment, rubbings, aged components, and magical goodies. It had taken the thief (plus Melicamp) the better part of an hour to get herself into Thalantyr's sanctum, and Aegis had needed to distract a golem during the final stages.

"How did you get him to come out?" Xan asked the girls in a whisper.

"Trade secret," they answered in unison with a wink at each other.

Xan was perplexed. "If you ever put this 'Guide to the Care of Wizards' book into print, I shall need to investigate a copy," he said at last.

Thalantyr was muttering something about giving Bags of Holding to pack rats, but his eyes were wide with appreciation of the hoard Imoen was displaying for him. Then he cleared his throat. "It is going to take me some time to sort through all of this," he began. "But in the meanwhile, I have an errand for you to run. Do you by chance remember those gnolls I was complaining about?"

"Sounds like our kind of work," Aegis agreed as most of the party members drew closer to listen. "And sounds like a fair trade for identifying all of our loot. We can leave someone behind to help sort everything and haggle over price."

"In that case," the archmage nodded, "show me what magical weapons and simple wands you've looted before I explain the whole of the errand. Best I send you off properly geared lest you lose any more members..."

Aegis cringed.

"Oh yeah it was horrible!" Imoen interjected suddenly, waggling her arms in the air. "There was fighting and Kagain tried to kill Ajantis but got killed cause he hit Aegis and then Dynaheir and Edwin and Circle Magic and curses and fleeing and then everyone was arguing about who started it and who did what to whom and undead and ankles and, ooh, I'm breaking out in hives just recallin' it I tell ya, it were horrible! Horrible!"

Thalantyr sighed and scratched his brow. "I assume _you_ are in charge of your party inventory?" he asked, dreading the answer. Imoen bobbed her head. "Of course you are." The girl beamed and Thalantyr grimaced; no doubt he was imagining all the trouble a bored purple thief could get into while he was identifying old tomes.

"Alright, Imm, we'll pick you up in the evening and head back to Beregost," Aegis agreed. She glanced over at Edwin, who appeared to be in a black mood and who was barely paying heed to any of them. "Odesseiron, you've been running on fumes all morning. Why don't you stay here for the rest of the day, and take a breather?"

The conjurer frowned, surprised by this courtesy. He thought about the offer and then looked to Thalantyr, who was scowling. "I should like to offer up my services in keeping the pink Monkey out of any and all locked and trapped safes for the duration of this afternoon. I am qualified. In fact, I could probably do it while napping..."

Something of a paranoid social recluse, Thalantyr eyed Edwin for a moment before asking astutely, "What happened to the two Rashemi?"

Edwin's snorted. "They are no doubt a country away and out frolicking about in the woods like proper barbarians," he muttered. "I have harmed neither, if that is the question." Remarkably, that last part was technically true. Thalantyr did not look completely convinced, but when Imoen produced the Ulcaster Seals, the archwizard suddenly had many more interesting things to worry about than Edwin.

..

* * *

The fresh magic items were laid out in a circle before the party. Some of them were items Imoen had forgotten about from earlier travels, and which had lain hidden in her Bag of Holding since Nashkel. They included quite a number of rare enchanted boots and gauntlets, a few rings of protection, and magical weapons including a flail, a dagger and short sword, and a halberd made of 'cold iron,' a material that was slate blue in color, an impressive collection of arrows, some mildly enchanted robes, and a Nymph's Cloak that Imoen vaguely remembered stealing off of someone... somewhere... A few of the items matched reports for missing objects coming out of Beregost or Nashkel, but when Thalantyr heard the posted reward prices he _strongly_ recommended they either haggle or ignore dubious claimants altogether.

"And by 'haggle,' I mean add two or three zeroes on to the end," the archwizard muttered. Imoen gave him a wink and a thumbs-up.

"Alright, I think we learned our lesson with those blood oozes," Aegis noted. "Some of these weapons aren't our first choices, but the more people we have using magical equipment, the better. Can anyone make use of a flail?"

"I can," Viconia said after a moment. "Which will suffice, particularly if we have not the budget for an enchanted mace."

"Works," Aegis agreed. "The halberd?"

When no one stepped forward, Kivan perked up slightly. He hesitated and glanced around at the party. Then he stepped forward and slowly picked up the item. He backed away to give himself space, and then gave the heavy pole arm and almost casual twirl.

"I can make use of it," he told them. "I shall eschew the bow today to re-familiarize myself."

..

* * *

"Ajantis, could I perhaps borrow you and your shield to help me try out this flail? Given that I have not held one in decades..." Viconia began.

When the paladin merely glanced at her and his face darkened slightly in expression, the drow frowned.

"That's it? a dirty look and silence; that is all you have to enlighten me?" The paladin looked down at her in surprise and Viconia sighed. "Very well. Ajantis, I am... _confused_... by your reactions this morning, male. You seem upset with me. I have no idea where to even begin with you."

The Helmite hadn't spoken a word to her or anyone else since she'd pulled him into the inn room that morning. When he finally answered her, his voice was a little uneven: "What I was waving for my future wife, I gave drunkenly to the most violent and despicable woman I have ever met."

The drow took in a long slow breath. Through intense concentration, she successfully refrained both from falling over laughing and from launching into a barrage of insults aimed at his naivety or sexuality. She kept a straight face, and carefully constructed her response. "Ajantis, are you supposing that I ought to have stopped you from sleeping with her?" she guessed.

He did not say anything.

The drow took in a slow breath and continued thus: "This is what I do not understand. Why would you expect me to be able to figure out which actions you simply needed courage to carry out... and which ones you would later regret? Do you think I could intuit them through cultural or moral reasoning?"

The paladin stared at her for a moment.

"I... did not expect you to end up looking so... violated," she told him. "I expected embarrassment and perhaps some shame, yes, but at the level proper for a joke or prank not... _whatever_ it is you're currently feeling." She was pulling this entire conversation out of thin air, but the words felt natural enough as she hazarded them into place.

"A _joke_?" the knight asked in disbelief.

"Well, previous to heading upstairs, you and Shar-Teel had been brawling; to the point where I nearly called on Shar's Divine Might in the inn so that I might separate you."

He frowned.

She perceived she was on the right track. "So, perhaps you can appreciate why I viewed your suddenly _benign_ 'sparring' with relief and humor as opposed to the... seriousness... with which you have clearly taken it. At the time, it clearly seemed the lesser of two evils."

Ajantis watched her uncertainly for a long moment, trying to rearrange his training and world view to gain some insight into how one might handle a n allywith no genuine understanding of good and evil. Viconia could behave so callously or even cruelly at times, but then turn around and hazard an attempt at natural decency in a blink. He did not know whether to curse her for actions she took in darkness, or commend her novel forays into kindness. No one could walk before they ran, after all, and yet half of everything the drow did carried the heavy stench of evil about it. Would any true knight have traveled with her for a moment?

At last the paladin heaved a mute and heavy sigh. "Thank you, Viconia," he murmured.

She lifted her brows. "You are thanking me? For what?"

"For dressing me this morning, at least," he admitted, closing his eyes temporarily to repress his embarrassment on that point. "For your concern and patience. For at least making an attempt to see things from my point of view. For talking to me calmly instead of resorting to sexual jokes at my expense. For trying to break me away from another fight. For taking Aegis seriously." He looked back down at her, having at last made a decision. "I should like to be your friend, Viconia. ...Though I expect doing so might involve no small amount of trial and error on my part... that is something I am willing to commit to."

The drow was puzzled. She thought of Dynaheir, of her sisters in the faith under Lolth, of the non-drow she had met whilst living alone in the underdark, and of the people who had extorted her 'services' in her time in Amn. She glanced at Xan and Branwen, before looking back up at Ajantis. "My 'friend'?"

Ajantis followed her gaze and then looked back at her. "The way you stress the word suddenly makes me feel obligated to _define_ it, lest horrible misinterpretations be made," he realized.

"Yes, you probably should," she agreed warily, still finding any arrangement between persons of different genders to be highly suspect. In her defense, Branwen and Xan likely classed into their own private category of complicated relationships for which 'friends' was an utterly inadequate term; and Dynaheir and Minsc had finally expressed their feelings for one another not long after the drow had entered the party.

The knight smiled slightly. "Then to begin with, in my usage, it does not imply and rather discourages any form of marital relations. And yes, I would be honored to help you practice with your new flail. Shall we step outside?"

..

* * *

**Long Author Notes ahead! Woo, rambling!**

**1.** We are going to pretend the word 'wingman' does not exist because of fighter pilots, and clearly has alternative and no-doubt magical origins!

**2.** I have been experimenting telling this story by trying to pack it into tiny, dense 'bites.' Micro-scenes which leave out transitions. Especially when I want to show how everyone is interacting in their down time. I think I like experimenting with conciseness ;) Especially when it lets me pack in more events. For this chapter, I had to really bite the bullet on NOT including every last tiny bit of dialog or interaction that occurred to me. I was getting in a mental fight between wanting to cram in dialog that just didn't fit because on the other hand I was trying to pay attention to crafting the proper story flow.

You know what else? I tend to leave out a lot of details and side quests, which always makes me nervous. I feel like I should be including *EVERYTHING* but then I pause and think and remember there's been a hundred fan novelizations of Bauldur's gate and maybe we can just assume some of those hijinx happen in the middle ;) Besides, a certain friendly ghoul should really wait till Xzar's around before introducing himself...

**3.** I am probably the only person in the world who didn't leave Kivan alone with his longbow ;) Since I ran a party with Aegis as main tank and a cleric for backup, I sometimes needed a third person to pick up a melee weapon and/or tank, kite, or protect the party.

In these times of need, Kivan would swap out the longbow! But because of how the Baldur's Gate engine works, its such a bother to equip a longbow and either a duelwielding set or a weapon and shield at the same time (NWN fixed this) and in BG1 you can't pause to reconfigure equipment. So Kivan got himself a set of full plate and put those 2 skill points in halberds to use and tanked! He does have a very high strength! Putting plate on rangers is silly but I so definitely did it ;) I imagined it was artful LOTR elfin plate after a bit :3

**4. **Keldorn would have some words to share if he could see Ajantis right now XD.


	42. Anger

**Anger**

Things gonna get bad :3

..

* * *

As they divvied up the rest of the items, and as a few members conversed about where exactly their old _Gauntlets of Dexterity _could be put to best use, Aegis leaned over to pick up the Nymph's Cloak. "What exactly does this do, by the way?" she asked her sister. "Make people more attractive?"

"Well..." Imoen hesitated, trading her _Boots of Avoidance_ for the _Boots of Stealth_ just to see what they were like, just in case she, ya know, _needed_ them. "Sorta. Nymph's cloaks aren't like putting on glitter, makeup, or an illusion. The enchantment gets deeper in your head than that, like your _Potions of the Scholar_ or _Potions of Insight_. A Nymph Cloak is supposed to heighten your sense of self, and the influence you have on other people. They're often used by negotiators and leaders actually!"

"So... it makes you look good... helps you figure out what you want to do with yourself... and makes you better at leading and talking to people?" the ranger wondered.

"I guess that's pretty accurate!" the thief agreed.

"It's mine," Aegis told her firmly. Imoen grinned and then stood up slowly. The thief walked past Edwin Odesseiron and out of his field of vision, turned around, and walked calmly up behind him. Aegis' grin dripped off her face. That Edwin currently had a thundercloud hanging over him was obvious to anyone with eyes. "Uh, Imm-"

"BOO!" Imoen shouted suddenly, tackling him from only inches away.

Aside from dropping the mug he was holding, Edwin's first reaction was to grab at his assailant and draw his belt dagger as the two went rolling. There was a frantic flurry of activity accompanying the sound of shattering ceramic and splattering liquid. Aegis reached up and reflexively grabbed hold of Kivan's arm as the elf whirled towards them.

There were a few thuds and slams as a table was knocked over on top of them and scrolls were toppled. The sounds drew the attention of both the party and Thalantyr, who looked up in surprise. Xan hurried over, but it was a short scuffle and therefore over before he arrived. The belt knife ended up embedded into the sanctum wall with a sharp, metallic twang. Imoen twisted the conjurer's hand free and hoarded it and his forearm to herself, as she kicked and struggled to keep on top of him. She'd started to laugh.

The conjurer seemed to register what had happened then, because he stopped struggling. "You- you-!" the Red Wizard snarled past gasps for air, trying to prop himself up from their indignant sprawl. Imoen was laughing harder and harder. She flopped back over top of him, releasing his arm and wiping tears from her eyes "You little, impudent, inane, wretched, filthy-! I could have _killed_ you!"

"Hah! 'Boo' I says! 'Boo' and he jumped out of his skin!" Imoen hiccuped mirthfully, patting her frazzled wizard's arm and kicking a piece of furniture back from them. "I'm sold, (hic!), Edwin, I'm keeping the boots!"

"You- you-! Gaaahh!" the Thayvian snarled, shoving to get both the aggravating pink child and the table off of him. When she proved too winded by laughter to rise, he propped up his chin on one hand and drummed his nails on the ground with the other. Which, given his mood, was a markedly less explosive response than most of the party might have expected.

When he noticed the the others, he re-purposed one of his hands to gesture angrily. "What?! What are you fools looking at!? Is it not enough punishment that _this Monkey_ is my apprentice, that you now feel compelled to add your oafish stares!? No, no. Leave me to endure this... this- _insolence_ in peace, and redirect your gazes like decent folk!"

"I'll clean up the mess!" the thief wheezed, suddenly remembering they were causing a disturbance in someone else's home. "I will!"

..

* * *

The gnolls which had so offended Thalantyr were a short travel south, and east of where the party had found Melicamp near the red Canyons. The group could not be certain if these gnolls were affiliated with the tribe which had imprisoned Dynaheir at the ruined fortress, but it gave Aegis some interesting things to wonder about.

For instance, was it possible that the party's assault on the gnoll fortress had provoked the tribe's aggravation of the leylines around High Hedge? Could the gnolls be using the land magic in an attempt to breathe new strength into their clan? Of course Aegis knew better than to try and make friends with hostile, cannibalistic hyena men; but she could still acknowledge that they must have_ some_ comprehensible driving forces other than 'being evil.' If memory served, there were some rougher places of the world where gnolls were contributing members of society.

Probably, the same held so for ogres...

These sorts of thoughts were ones Gorion had always encouraged, and now more than ever his encouragement seemed a form of guiding light. Ironically, it was most likely her father's influence that Aegis was romantically involved with a necromancer, and had recruited a drow.

Glancing over at Kivan at her side, Aegis wondered if he ever thought about such things. Probably not, she wagered; more than most men, Kivan seemed to have particularly little room for doubt in his life. A few members of her party might have. Xan seemed to up until he formed a conclusion; then that part of him turned off in order to mitigate anxiety. Dynaheir seemed very compassionate.

Aegis was struck by the curious sensation that doubt was a very interesting emotion, and one that could drive a person crazy if they had either too much or too little of it at the wrong moment in time.

..

* * *

Aegis' philosophical daydreams were interrupted by snarls and hoots oozing over the ridge ahead. The first person to dash forward was Kivan, no longer using his longbow and instead readying his halberd. Aegis hissed in alarm, wanting to call him back but unwilling to risk signaling the gnolls. No one was ever allowed into melee combat before Aegis! Absolutely no one! As she pursued, however, she watched Kivan plant the butt of the halberd in the ground and use it to pole vault. The weapon immediately gave him incredible height to his jump, but as he reached the apex and began to descend, he tore the weapon from the ground, threw it forward, hooked a branch, and promptly swung himself up into the trees.

Darting from branch to branch, he swiftly positioned himself to flank the gnolls. Aegis slowed and watched him in amazement. Then she looked over at Viconia, who had hurried up alongside her to see the wild elf's athleticism a little better. The cleric looked openly impressed.

"He must be very impressive under all that armor," the drow noted in a whisper.

Aegis _almost_ said something to the effect that Viconia would be disappointed, when she abruptly realized that mentioning Kivan's scarring would probably yield some sort of lewd and unnecessary comment from the drow woman about slaves. Aegis considered this for a moment and then shook her head. There was a battle to fight, and this was _not_ the time to be thinking about naked elves.

"Spread out the shields, and form the offensive line," Aegis whispered. "Let's take this nice and easy and grab their full attention. There's not many, but we're down our most combustive wizards."

"You mean to give the wild elf plenty of room to show off," Viconia drawled sweetly. "Good. There are few dances more beautiful than a battle's, and he did say he'd be 're-familizarizing' himself with the weapon. We will end up seeing _quite_ a lot of beautiful weapon mastery this afternoon."

"You and I need to spar more," Branwen winked at the drow as she came up beside them. "You speak one of my two native tongues."

"One of your... oh, _War_?" the drow smiled as the party readied itself and began speaking mostly with hand gestures. Their whispers eased even quieter, though the gnoll snarls easily eclipsed them. "What is the other?"

"A dialect she shares with Imoen," Xan whispered such that only elves could hear, his eyes shuttered wryly. "Food."

The group moved forward, hurtling down over the ridge in relative quiet, weapons bared. Some of the gnolls turned to face them in surprise, but others were caught flat footed. Aegis lifted her shield to knock the first brute's halberd wide, and felled him with a heavy crack of her axe to the chest. Viconia shouted for the protective embrace of the Nightsinger's Shadows, whilst beside her Ajantis smote the gnolls with all of Helm's righteous ire. They made a perversely ironic and surprisingly effective tag-team when each left the other to their specialty.

Xan had just charmed one of the gnolls and Branwen was shouting for Tempus when Kivan vaulted downwards out of the trees. Though Kivan and the gnolls were both wielding halberds, the difference in skill level between them was as clear-cut as night and day.

The elf led with sharp jabs of the halberd's top spear-tip, choked up to hold the weapon like an axe with additional leverage from the shaft when the gnolls turned to face him, and then executed a twirl that brought the weapon out to its full length again to hack out the throat of an onrushing foe. The weapon head spun low to his opposite side as he completed the spin, and then he had hooked the ankle of one of the gnolls facing Xan and tripped the creature clear onto its face.

..

* * *

"Edwin, I don't want to learn magic right now!" Imoen whined in frustration, pouting up at him. "Look at all the sparkly things I have to help identify! I love sparklies, Edwin!"

"_I _will help with the haul. _You_ are lucky I do not tie you to a ship's anchor and put you in a time-out over in the corner," the conjurer glowered at her. "If you insist on behaving like a toddler, I shall treat you like one."

"A toddler? Does that mean I get to go outside and play?"

Edwin glared down at her. Imoen beamed up at him. Melicamp watched fascinated from a healthy distance. Thalantyr momentarily entertained turning all three nuisances out of his home.

It was clear that Edwin's patience had been stretched thin to the point of translucence, and glimpses of what lay beneath weren't pretty. His teeth were clenched, and his nails were digging slightly into his palms. A brief silence stretched between the two party members. Then the Red Wizard straightened up abruptly, his expression softening. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side, observing the pink thief a moment longer with veiled eyes. A smirk twitched at his lips.

"If it means you will study?" Edwin asked. "By all means; go outside, dangle upside down from the trees like a good monkey, and read 'till your heart's content. The blood rushing to your head might even even help your dismal attention span. Just watch out for the knife-throwing skeletons and stray doggies, mm?"

Imoen considered this and then looked upward towards the astrolabe above them. Then she looked back at Edwin, who knew exactly what she was thinking and was not impressed. He raised a brow. She grinned almost bashfully. "Oh _okay_," she surrendered.

"Thank you, _Kwefai_," he muttered. He unclasped his spellbook from his side, turned to the requisite page, and then gently offered the tome to her. "Here. Find somewhere comfortable, and do not cease studying until you are ready to impress me." Imoen took it reverently and hugged it to her chest.

"Would a back flip impress you?" she wondered.

Edwin eyed her with a silent patience that suggested he had deliberately refused to hear that last comment.

Imoen smiled. "Oh alright, alright. Thank you Maestro. Melicamp? Could you show me a good place to study?" The chicken hurried up excitedly.

Edwin, who had been heading back to Thalantyr, abruptly paused. "Kwefai, do _not_ share my spellbook."

"What's it matter if he can't understand it? I need someone to keep my company!"

"By now it is a matter of principle," the Thayvian decided. "Do not share your tutor's spellbook with anyone, child."

"Oh pah. It's half my spell anyway! I got it for you and gave it to you!"

"Oh is _that_ what you think?" the Red Wizard purred with a cat-like grin. "Very well, Kwefai. Then after learning the spell you must transcribe it in your own hand and your own style. And once you have done so, you are free to give _your work_ to Melicamp for his review. Now hurry along, you've much work to do!"

"Boogers," Imoen murmured in amazement was Edwin turned away and went off to help identify documents. "How did I end up agreeing to homework?"

..

* * *

Kivan was cleaning off the crescent curve of his new weapon with great respect for its care. It had been a gift from the party, and it had proven its worth. He was quiet and did not speak to any member of the party but he was glad for their presense. He had been alone for a very long time, and it had been difficult to bond to parties he was certain would perish the moment he took a moment's rest. Aegis' group might have had its share of troubles, but the final unit enjoyed a level of success he'd rarely seen before. He hoped it lasted.

Across the clearing, Ajantis was eyeing Viconia warily. When he saw her step towards the elf, the paladin knew she was on the verge of doing something_ incredibly_ stupid. Most likely she intended to simply walk up to Kivan and compliment him on his fighting style and, truth be told, the paladin found it sort of moving that she wished to be amiable with her surface cousin. Yet it was obvious any further contact between the two would only end in tragedy, and the Amnite was _not_ going to watch that happen! Not after... well, Ajantis didn't want to think about what happened to the dwarf. Instead, he grabbed Viconia by the shoulder and tugged her backwards, wordlessly shaking his head.

Viconia looked up at him in surprise. "Release me, male," she protested, but Aegis must have seen the same tell-tale signs Ajantis had.

"Do not go up and talk to him," their leader advised, coming swiftly up to bar them. "And listen to me: If you ever even _accidentally_ bait Kiven into violence, he is going to succeed at killing you before anyone manages to stop him. And that is really, really going to ruin everyone's day." _  
_

The drow scowled at her. "You are a little _too_ impressed. You insult me and overvalue him if you think _I_ am helpless in a fight."

Aegis shook her head and glanced to make sure they were likely far enough away that the elf ranger could not make out their hushed words. "Look, Viconia: Kivan doesn't argue, plot, trade insults, or even fight people. Kivan kills things. Quietly, cleanly, quickly, and without giving a warning first."

Viconia looked back up at where the wild elf was cleaning up in the aftermath of the ambush. She was quiet for a moment before agreeing: "It's actually sort of admirable."

Aegis found it funny that Viconia didn't need anyone to explain to her why an unstable loner who might try to kill her had been allowed to join the party; she clearly took Kivan's fighting prowess as sufficient justification when the lot of them hoped to wreck a bandit camp.

"Give Kivan his space," Xan added in his words of caution, coming up to join them and glancing briefly up at Ajantis. It irked the enchanter to admit so, but he was glad the paladin had prevented any catastrophic Viconia-deaths that afternoon. "And bite back on stray comments if they come to you."

Ajantis saw Viconia scowling and he placed a hand on her shoulder "There's almost nothing you can say to him that he'll receive well, Viconia. Trust our judgement. No one wants to see you hurt." Aegis and Xan both nodded their agreement of this sentiment.

The drow pulled back from Xan warily. She shot a glance to Aegis, and then Ajantis, and then looked back to Xan. "Enchanter, only days ago it was revealed that I had conspired to harm you. What game do you play that my 'treachery' is not more relevant to you?"

The enchanter paused as if caught unprepared and surprised by the question. Then he tilted his head to the side. "You are drow, and you targeted the party's only two elves. If Kivan knew what you'd said and done, I am sure he would draw very bleak conclusions about the natural relationship between drow and elves," Xan told her. "But you must notice I have not told him? I have only traveled with you for a short while Viconia, but I should like to think you might be better than that."

More than anything else that had happened since joining the party, it was _this_ that startled Viconia. She had been accustomed to her nature being taken for granted. To hear that anyone (much less a darthiir) had noticed or believed something different about her... well it was certainly _new_. No matter how Viconia had behaved or what she had done in her time since leaving the drow, whether it be lawful or criminal, cruel or kind, she had received largely the same reactions from everyone, everywhere.

Xan was still speaking: "I do not have infinite wells of forgiveness, that's true. But I do not see a heartless murderer when I look at you. In time I suppose you will prove me right or wrong. For now... keep away from Kivan and close to Ajantis, Aegis, or myself. Our Shillmistian ranger does not take the world in shades of gray."

..

* * *

"Is he really a (b'caw!) Red Wizard? From Thay?" Melicamp asked Imoen. He was sitting in her lap like a nest and looking over a _Light_ spell Imoen had given him; it was one of the few spells she'd ever written on paper.

"Edwin? Yup," the thief nodded. "And he's not the friendliest either, so try not to get lit on fire!"

"Are you actually his (cluck!) apprentice?" The chicken could tell this must have been a good story. "I guess you must be. He actually gave you his _spellbook..._"

"Well... Red Wizards' can only take certain apprentices. And I didn't want a formal education. But either way, I'm still his student!"

"How did you end up with a Red Wizard as your (cluck!) master?"

Imoen's face screwed up. "I told him I'd never call him master, never respect his cosmic power, totally undermine his authority, spite any attempt to tell me what to do and in general make a nuisance of myself; and if he accepted that then I'd _let_ him teach me." Melicamp gaped at her. Imoen broke out laughing. "Weelll, Edwin and I are considerably closer in age than you and Thalantyr, and we're adventuring together. So it's different! But also I'm the _worst_ apprentice ever. Don't you go learning no bad habits from me now, ya hear? You behave; your old cranky archwizard can only bend magic in half so many times all just to save you, ya know!"

"I've learned my lesson!" Melicamp blurted, his feathers sticking up in memory of his failure. "I will always be careful with magic from here on out!"

"Try to enjoy the learning of it," Imoen advised. "Edwin whines sometimes about me having no ambition like a 'proper Thayvian boy,' but ya know what makes all teachers happy? A student who loves learning. Ya gotta be fascinated by how ya obtain the knowledge, not just how to use it."

Melicamp considered this. Then abruptly the chicken asked: "Is he _evil_?"

"What?" Imoen blinked. "Edwin?"

"Well, aren't Red Wizards evil?" Melicamp asked bluntly.

"Um..." Imoen didn't remember ever having been confronted with this topic in such boldface before. She was vaguely reminded of Xzar's laughter when Imoen had mentioned the goddess _Shar_ was evil. "Well... we can rule out him being _good_." After that, she wasn't sure what could be added. "Say, Melicamp, I think I'm done studying for now. But there's this riddle I've been working on and I was hoping a fellow thief might be able to help me."

"A riddle?" the chicken's curiosity was perked. "But you have two wizards in your party.

"Well, it _is_ an unfinished spell with a riddle embedded in it. I _tried_ to solve it the wizardly way, but my roguish intuition keeps insisting this riddle ain't the riddle it's riddled to be. Not smart, but clever. Do ya know what I mean?" Imoen tucked Edwin's spellbook away and drew out the crumpled paper.

The chicken nodded in an 'of course' way, and peered at the document. "Was this folded when you got it?" he asked abruptly.

Imoen blinked and was quiet for a long, dramatic pause, staring at the creases. "Melicamp, we're geniuses," she told him.

..

* * *

"Greetings, fair travelers! Are you also out hunting gnolls this fine afternoon?"

Kivan nearly leaped out of his skin and spun around. The fact that anyone had successfully sneaked up on _Kivan_ immediately terrified the entire party, who turned with weapons raised to see a new ranger parched up on the ridge above them. His armor was blackened leather and he was wearing a green cloak trimmed with white fur. He was accompanied by an enormous black panther, whose skill in silent movement he must have shared.

The first thing that occurred to Aegis was that the panther was magnificent, at which point all of her other thoughts dissolved into: "Kitty!" which she actually shouted aloud in excitement.

The first thing that occurred to anyone else in the party was that this ranger was drow. Viconia straightened in surprise and alarm, and Kivan loosed a violent spurt of curses as he twirled his halberd and bolted forward to launch the first blow. The newcommer jumped back in surprise, lifting up slender twin scimitars to defend himself. Kivan leaped upward to engage.

As the wildelf rushed past her, a kitten-obsessed Aegis suddenly lashed out and seized the elf by the scruff of his cloak, grabbing him mid-pounce and yanking him backwards. There she held him, dangling him a good two feet off the ground.

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" Aegis exclaimed. "Kivan!"

"Another drow?" Branwen wondered.

"_Another?"_ the newcomer sputtered, looking from Kivan to Aegis to Viconia. His eyes widened.

"Why are you not more alarmed!?" Ajantis exclaimed.

Branwen shrugged. "The first drow is my shieldmate?" she postulated.

"Put me down!" Kivan roared in surprise. "That is a DROW! Put me down! Are you starting a COLLECTION!?" His attempts to shout made his hoarseness and the damage to his vocal cords even more obvious, and Xan winced.

"Not unless you calm the hell down!" Aegis told him.

Kivan whirled the halberd around, pointing the spiked tip towards her face. "By all the gods of the Seldarine, put me down or I swear-!"

"For fuck's sake Kivan, his name is Drizzt Do'Urden! He's a Chosen of Milekki and the most famous ranger 'cross all the Faerun!"

..

* * *

"It seems I am not the only one who has been eschewing normal sleeping hours," Thalantyr noticed.

Edwin stifled another yawn. "Blast it. Yes," he admitted, offering the archwizard a tome on the theory of abjuration which appeared to be incredibly high-level. Thalantyr took it and made careful note of it before nodding and adding it to the inventory list. The Thayvian rubbed his face.

"What spell?" Thalantyr was certainly familiar with the sleepless motivation that dogged a wizard on the trail of some new piece of insight.

Edwin was too tired to recall that Thalantyr was disinclined to idle conversation, and too comfortable surrounded by lore to be properly on his guard. "A jury-rig for a curse, actually. Though, eh, nothing of Netherese origin of course."

"I am not going to let you watch the curse-breaking ritual for Melicamp no matter how you flatter me," the archwizard responded. "The thief is _your_ apprentice?"

"Do please spare me the experience of ever dealing with a pink-feathered chicken, and let her attend the ritual," Edwin requested. "I am hoping it will teach her an appreciation for caution..."_  
_

The archwizard smirked slightly, understanding the desire for more cautious apprentices. Children. So reckless. "You don't seem the type for charity projects," he noted after a moment. "And I doubt you are keeping her for her... _delightful_... personality. I wonder what about her might interest a Red Wizard."

Edwin knew well how to deflect attention in this sort of game, and now he had the luxury of speaking to a man with whom he had no image to maintain. "What? I cannot have a pet?" he asked with a sleepy grin. "You have a chicken; I have a monkey; I see nothing odd here."

"This curse you mention; does it have anything to do with the absent Rashemi?"

Edwin grimaced. "I am not asking for your help in fixing it," he dismissed the topic with a wave, and then moved to stand. "I need to go for a short walk to try and clear my thoughts." He blinked, a little dizzy, and lowered his voice: "And then perhaps lie down for an hour..."

"You may camp in the outer sanctum," Thalantyr permitted.

Edwin was sure Thalantyr had extra rooms, but he nodded politely and headed towards the exit. Of course he was only a few feet from the open doors when a pink thief catapulted down the staircase. She stooped to set Melicamp down and then hurried up to his side.

"Helluuu!" she hailed him. "How are you doing this afternoon?"

Edwin eyed her. "Unless you are ready to leave me _dazzled,_ waif, you will head straight back up to whence you cam and keep studying" he muttered, heading out.

"I'm taking a break," she admitted, skipping after him. "Edwin, I was thinking, and I want to talk to you."

"No," he answered, enjoying the mild fall afternoon and settling on a route around the building.

"Edwin, I told you when you sorted the spell out that we were going to talk about this and that you couldn't get out of it. And you've sorted out the spell!"

He sighed boredly. "And I am the master and you are the child and the answer is still 'absolutely not.' "

She eyed him in disbelief. Then she scowled and marched up in front of him, planting her hands on her hips.

Edwin stopped walking and eyed her irritably. Was it a crime to want some time alone?

"Alright, that's it mister, no more hiding behind words. We need to talk about what happened and about what's going to happen, and we are going to talk _now_!" He tried to step around her. She got in his way. "No. _Now_."

He grimaced at her in annoyance. "Must you bother me at every opportunity? I am tired and my patience is drained. Be off and leave me to my thoughts, lest I hurry you off with fire."

"No, Edwin, I'm serious. You should make up with Dynaheir and get yourself un-cursed, like a mature adult. One of us has to be a mature adult, you know!"

His grimace dripped into a glower. "This isn't some game, child. I have nothing to say to that witch. (Nothing I can't spell out on her corpse with a dagger, that is...)"

Imoen grimaced, though she was more angry with him for trying to scare her off with gruesome chatter just so he could get out of having this conversation. She took in a steadily breath and stood tall. "Edwin right now you are little more than a successful dispel away from losing your mind. You are still badly cursed, and the solution is as plain as day!" she scolded him. "Just accept you screwed up and move on with life!"

_That_ ruffled his feathers. "Do not insult me, I have _not_ failed," he snapped to correct her. "And I do not need you to remind me of my condition! The witch will die by my hand, and that is no new information to you! Need I remind you whom your tutor is, and whom you elected to help? There is nothing more to say, so be gone with you! This is a waste of my time." He tried again to get around her, but she immediately got in his way again and grabbed his arm, pushing him back a step.

"This conversation is _not over_! It's just started!" Imoen insisted. He sneered. "Why won't you at least explain to me why you won't even _talk_ to her?" Imoen frowned. "Edwin, you have to start talking to _me_; you have to _tell_ me something!"

"You will find I am under no such obligations," he growled. Nothing rubbed him the wrong way _quite_ so severely as assertions of some kind of universal morality making demands on him. "And as you so astutely pointed out yesterday: I will be leaving soon. I owe you no insights."

"You bet your red-robed _ass_ you owe me an explanation," she hissed at him in no uncertain terms, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on the balls of her feet.

He eyed her with disdain. "Imoen I have warned you once before to extort payment _before_ rendering services, no? So are you relying entirely on... your annoying voice?... to compel me to divulge information? Hmm, it may work, but I suspect you will be disappoint-"

"You call yourself my mentor!" the girl exclaimed, advancing an angry step on him and gesticulating animatedly. The wizard's eyes narrowed at her. "Come on, Edwin, stop dodging the topic! You owe me an explanation for why you are going to leave your student, at least! So why? Why do you have to leave now?" her brows furrowed together. "Why- Why can't you just- just- just use de-cursing yourself as an excuse to stay or something!?"

A slight pause in Edwin's wall of canned and unflattering retaliations was Imoen's only clue that she'd finally hit a nerve. Had Edwin entertained a similar question himself? But then he sneered derisively. "So highly you think of yourself, little thief, that you presume I should derail my ambitions for you... No, no. Pay attention: The master leaves the tower and need not inform the apprentices to whence or why. It is not the students' lot to question; only to study and wait obediently for his return!"

"Wait for-? Edwin! If you go after her, no one will _ever_ welcome you back here!" she shouted in disbelief. "You can't just _kill_ somebody and then act like nothing's happened! Dynaheir has been a good friend to everyone- even you!"

"What substances have you been abusing that she and I could look like friends to you!?" he snapped in suddenly vicious disbelief, eschewing the indolent tone she might have expected. She'd scored a second hit on him. "She nearly _killed_ me! Do you honestly believe a _picnic_ is supposed to excuse the condition in which I currently find myself!?"

"You kept _vividly_ threatening to _kill her_!" the thief exclaimed. "What is _wrong_ with you!? Did you honestly expect _anyone_ could keep taking that, no matter their good intentions?! You _started it_!"

"I started it!?'" he exclaimed. "You try to lecture me on follies as if I were some misbehaving brat? This whole construct was a charade; a dance in which she and I each pretended at peace while we watched each other's moves! What does it truly matter who precisely 'started' it if conflict was surely inevitable-!?"

" 'Inevitable' nothing! You purposefully baited her and I know _why_! And look what happened! You threw down bait, and you hooked more than you could handle! _You failed, _and you should just admit it and stop this!"

"You loathsome, slanderous gnat," he snarled. "How gullible and quaint your view of the world is! I am _alive_, so I have not failed. To stop me, she will have to kill me. Is _that_ what you want of me?" his voice elevated. "Whose side are you even on?"

"Side? What you intend to do is _wrong_, Edwin!" she told him. "Dynaheir is my friend, and if you hurt her I will _never_ forgive you, no matter who baits who!"

Edwin was staring at her with his teeth clenched in a furious grimace and his eyes wide. There was a reddish pigment visible against his bronze cheeks, and his arms trembled with rage. Edwin did 'truly angry' only two ways; and this was _not_ the calm, deadly, focused version.

"Your friend?!" the conjurer nearly shrieked at her, a red luminescence gathering around his fingers as evidence of his frustration. "You sanctimonious ingrate! _I_ am your mentor, _I _am your friend! You barely know her, and yet you are willing to forgive her for actions which ought to have caused my demise! Where is _my_ forgiveness for returning the favor back to her!?"

Imoen fumbled her answer. To be fair, this was not at all the sort of reaction Imoen or anyone else had expected from Edwin Odesseiorn. "S- she's stood up for you plenty of times and told the whole party she wouldn't tolerate any attempt to trick you into a fight and kill you! Before you and I were friends, even! She's a good person!" the thief blurted out.

"And here we come to the crux of the issue at last!" the Red Wizard thundered poisonously, his voice dripping with acid and sarcasm. "Dynaheir is a good person, and I am not! So _that's_ why logic runs is so subverted for her alone!"

"She didn't let Xan kill you! She didn't mean to nearly kill you! It was an accident! You provoked it!"

"She channeled her coven's killing stroke without throttling it; she acquiesced to their judgement and she blew my mind to tattered shreds _knowing I would die_; and all of this is forgivable because Dynaheir behaves the way_ you _find morally palatable! Her attempts at murder are 'accidents' because she makes people sandwiches, talks politely, and coddles you! But I- I the Red Wizard- the Thayvian- the realist- I, the only one willing to tell you the truth of things- I_ am evil, _and any 'accident' I partake in is a justification for my execration!"

He was nearly bringing tears to Imoen's eyes, she was so frustrated. "Edwin, stop it! Stop it! Why doesn't it bother you that you want to try and kill someone I and everyone else here cares about!? Don't you have the slightest notion of what good and evil really mean!?"

"I. Am. Your. Teacher!" Edwin thundered, advancing over her. "I have volunteered not only to educate you but to share my very spellbook with you. There is _naught_ of myself that I can give to anyone which is more valuable than my magic! Does that mean nothing to you!?

She wiped her face stubbornly. "It means I should be worth more to you than an incidental little bonus prize you try to snatch up on the route to getting your way!"

"You should be _grateful_ and beholden onto me to be so mentored!" he snarled. "Have I not listened to you and made allowances for your weaknesses and deficiencies?! Have I not paid attention to your fears, your apprehensiveness, your unusual requirements!? No wizard would be as patient as I have been, and patience is not even my strong suite!"

"Ha! If that's how you feel, I'll send a pigeon to Pointy Hat tomorrow!"

His eyes widened further and his lip curled. "You miserable _bitch, _you have all the loyalty of a starving _leech_," he hissed. "If you had found Dynaheir and I dueling to the death down in Ulcaster, I ask you, whose side would you have stepped in on!? Which of us would you have watched perish, if given the choice!?

"Edwin! That's not-!"

"I should have foreseen the thinness of your fidelity with how quick you were to try and discard my mentorship when I began pressing you to be honest with me about Ulraunt- or sooner, had I paid proper attention to way you shed lovers like feathers from a molting bird! I_ should_ be able to rely on my apprentice to stand by and support me; and yet here I am unable to solicit something as pitiful as _indifference!"_

"I _did_ stand by you! You were hurt, and I helped you no matter what anyone said!" Imoen insisted, trying to steel herself for another hurtle. Edwin had steamrolled her with the brunt of his anger, and she needed to regain her feet before this got any worse. There really were tears beading in the corners of her eyes.

"What special courtesy of yours is that!? You would have done no differently for anyone- in fact I believe you would have done similarly for a complete and utter stranger! Your bleeding heart does not make you loyal! My tutelage, my knowledge, my effort, my _patience_, my _carefulness, _these things mean _nothing_ to you if you would just as soon see me die as my enemy!"_  
_

"_You_ are leaving _me_," she reminded him firmly. "You are leaving me after you insisted tutoring me was a long term investment. And you think I should let you guilt me into feeling bad about how _little_ you ended up valuing _me_?! Telling me I should be grateful!? You son of a bitch, _you should be grateful! _Who else would have picked _you _to teach them!? Who else would have put up with you!?"

"Me!? You were a pain in the ass from nearly the moment I met you!" he shouted. "Impudent, annoying, naive, sanctimonious AND kleptomanic, and at times a complete floozy! I have put up with more bizarre shit from you than Xan dumped on Viconia!"

Imoen's fists clenched.

"And yet you were worth it. You _are _worth it; you are _still _worth it, and despite the fact that you should be fighting on _my_ side, despite my loss of self-pride over trying to appease the sugar-coated morality of a child whose profession is _theft, _I am willing to negotiate with near anything to return to tutoring you afterwards! What do you want?!"

"I want you to leave Dynaheir alone!" she shouted as if he were completely retarded.

"Stop trying to live in a fantasy land! No one struggling out here in the real world can conform to your standards of morality! Out here, there is dirty business to be done, and consequences for failure!" Edwin shouted. He took a deep breath and turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Imoen nearly shouted back at him. Then she swallowed hard, trying to process what he'd said. "What consequences?" she asked grumpily, hoping maybe they'd finally gotten to the topic she'd wanted to bring up in the first place.

He shook his head slightly, and looked at her with dark eyes. "I am never going to reconcile with that woman. When I find her, do you know what I am going to do to her, conditions permitting?" He looked away almost wistfully. "After I am done _disassembling _her muscle-bound companion for her enjoyment, I am going to let her know what it is like to feel her mind torn to shreds beneath an invader's fingertips. And I am going to do it quite _literally, _if I may."

Imoen sneered, irritated. "Edwin, stop, you don't have to prove you're-"

"I really hope I have more time than to simply put that damnable Wychlaran rat down like the vermin she is. I want to draw it out, you see; I want to take my time to make sure she understands her folly," he purred, his pulse starting to elevate again and an excitement building in his voice. "I will restrain that woman through enchantment and ensure she remains alive. A magic knife should get through her skull," he considered, "though acid will help make the cuts neater and reduce unwanted collateral."

These were not just Edwin's normal ramblings about intending to fireball the entire party. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully a moment, smiling at a mental picture. "I can take the dome clear off the top and then the gray matter will be directly accessible. I will not be so childish as to actually sink my fingers in immediately; no, that is something I must save till near the end. But a knife point here and a spell there... that could give me all the time and entertainment I need."

He nodded, smirking and tapping his lips. "Yes. That will be a beautiful reprisal for what she and her gods-be-damned Coven did onto me. It will be so rewarding, to watch the impact of each severed bridge, stimulated nerve, and removed lobe on her countenance. Reward enough for the pain she has caused me.

"Then, When I am done, I will cut her heart from her breast and package it up in reeds and cloves to keep it preserved. I will send that home to her Hathran mother, for certain but... But the head, the head I will keep. I will send it to my father that he might mount it as a trophy on the wall before I return, and its slow decay should leave behind a lovely new decorative skull. Yes. That will be an _incredibly _appropriate fate for our Wychlaran 'friend.' I look forward to it, I really do."


	43. Bargaining

**Bargaining**

**..**

* * *

"That will be an _incredibly _appropriate fate for our Wychlaran 'friend.' I look forward to it, I really do," Edwin concluded, feeling enlivened with the anticipation of Dynaheir's inescapable fate.

Then it occurred to him Imoen was still there, and she had been silent for some time. It was not like Imoen to be silent, and he wondered if he'd finally made some impact on the child's annoying buoyancy. Unlikely; the girl's optimism was the dictionary definition of irrepressible. Still he turned about then to behold the pink waif's expression, hoping to see fear and respect where there had only ever been insolent mockery.

At the sight of her, his eyes widened slightly in intrigue, and he straightened.

Imoen's posture _was_ frightened. Dismayed. Horrified! It was everything he had ever wanted to see! She was leaning back from him, her arms drawn up defensively close to her chest. Her lips were softly parted as if they had dripped numbly into that shape; her eyes were wide and her brows were furrowed upward in distress.

She believed him. She finally believed him. What a joyous day!

A surprised and delighted laugh started up in his belly and throat, and then suddenly was quenched in a tight emptiness before it reached his mouth. His brow furrowed with sudden uncertainty, and he took a step towards his apprentice. Imoen stepped reflexively back from him. He halted.

Ecstasy and confusion bubbled through him. He wanted to laugh and he wanted to stare and gape and appreciate the moment. She who had always, always been happy to believe the best of everyone, _she_ had finally been silenced! Gone was her amused and tolerant patience, and gone was her trust. Behind her eyes, he could see the disillusionment of a mind which had finally comprehended- finally _seen_- the harshness of reality for the very first time! And he felt-

He felt...

Staring into his companion's heartbroken face in that brief moment, he felt both ecstatic relish and a tingling nausea. The latter might have been related to adrenaline, or panic as he realized the implications of what he had just done. Had he not just been arguing the reasons she ought to absolve him of Dynaheir's murder?

"Imoen," he blurted, shrinking back a step in an effort to stop intimidating her. "I did not mean to... those words should not have been for you," he tried to bandage the situation; or at least stop it from hemorrhaging._  
_

A moment of silence past between them, as Imoen stared horrified up at him, and Edwin processed exactly how unimpressed he currently was with himself. Then she lowered her arms to her sides and shook her head slowly. "They were just the truth, weren't they?" she asked quietly.

"They were... they were words, Imoen," he answered her with hesitant diplomacy. "Just... _words_. Ones that would have, eh... better gone _unspoken_."

"No." She shook her head again. "You just told me straight," she mumbled, looking down. "It's... it's like Xan were trying to tell me: I can't pretend the things I do don't have consequences, just because they'll happen where I can't see 'em. If anything happens to Dyn, it'll be... it'll be my fault, and I ought to know the full of what I've done." She shuddered and rubbed her face. "S-someone just had to throw it in my face so it'd finally stick that I were deludin' myself, is all. And it ought to have been you who taught me, right?" She tried to smirk up at him and failed miserably.

No amount of anger had ever altered the fact that Edwin was already exhausted, and it took him a moment to realize that his companion's tone had not turned condemnatory, but rather self-flagellating. "Ah... Imoen..." he hazarded. Was this good? This was _reasonable_; it no doubt meant her charity would persist in some martyred version untill he had made his departure..._  
_

"And... And it's like you said from the beginning," she agreed with some remembered conversation, looking off at nothing. "If I expect people to act outside their own self-interest I'm just setting myself up to be used. I'll end up disappointed every time, because 'All friendships are limited by the goals of the involved parties. Everyone is out for themselves. People will let you down, abandon you, and betray you all your life. Myself included. Get used to it. Use it to your advantage.' "

_Oh. The_ eidetic i_s quoting me. _He closed his eyes and touched his temple, trying to get a handle on whatever it was he wanted to say to her. Perhaps it was best to leave her in this state; they were clearly reaching no resolution on the issue of Dynaheir, and it might be refreshing to go the next few weeks with Imoen rendered meek and quiet.

The girl's gaze and voice lowered even further and she murmured bitterly to herself: " 'After he left, you were never going to see him again. He had no use for you. Why bother leaving on good terms? Simple decision, really. How do the first shocks of realism feel, O Buoyant One?' " She sniffled slightly, and rubbed her nose stubbornly.

_I said that about the halfling, _he determined, looking grimly at his apprentice. _Is she now applying it to me? _She ought to have known better than to think the wounded puppy look could motivate him. _  
_

"I... I just..." Imoen hesitated. Then she took in a deep and shuddering breath, and came up to him. Edwin's brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side when she produced a folded paper dragon, and offered it out to him. "I figured the riddle out," she told him. "I worked out how Elminster had folded it... and then I folded it in reverse so all the spellery and codes were facin' out. See how the elvish forms circles round these points? That's the cipher, I think..."

He looked quietly from her to the dragon and then back again. Then, when she didn't immediately move, he lifted a hand and she placed it gently upon his palm. Without another word, she stood back and turned about, shuffling off towards High Hedge's open doors. Perhaps _she_ wanted to be alone to sort out _her_ thoughts.

Edwin winced, staring after her. To say he was dissatisfied with the way this entire conversation had gone would have been an understatement; the urge to laugh at her sullen misery notwithstanding.

..

* * *

A silence reigned over the party for a moment. Viconia was clearly hearing about _this_ particularly character for the very first time. Kivan blinked Aegis, startled. Then he looked towards the newcomer. Aegis discretely lifted up a hand and pushed the threatening halberd tip away from her face. Kivan glanced up at her.

"What?" the blonde ranger exclaimed. "If you are honestly going to spear me through the head for being less bloodthirsty than you, I am going to lose all respect for you as a mentor."

The wild elf scowled, redirecting his weapon and lowering it. "Put me down," he instructed calmly. Aegis grunted and obeyed, settling her favorite elf back on his feet and then straightening his cowl about his shoulders. He gently shooed away her hand and then stepped up to Do'Urden. The dark elf ranger stepped back warily, but Kivan greeted him warmly in elvish, and apologized for not recognizing him soon.

Aegis lifted a brow. Then she tilted her head to the side when not only did Drizzt respond, but the two 'elves' launched into a rapid conversation about Kivan's homeland and the surrounding territories. A few names were thrown about that Aegis felt were familiar. Bewildered by Kivan's abrupt friendliness, she turned about to survey her party. Viconia was gaping openly. Drizzt occasionally shot curious glances her direction.

"What just happened?" Branwen finally asked. "I thought elves and drow and Kivan and Viconia and... erm... I'm confused."

"You and me both," Aegis agreed. "I _think_ they might have met before; but what with elvish lifespans, Kivan just didn't register it at first."

"But he's drow," Branwen repeated, not because the distinction was important to her, but because anyone and everyone would have assumed the distinction to be important to Kivan.

Aegis shrugged, and turned her gaze back to the large hunting cat at Drizzt Do'Urden's side. The urge to waltz up and scratch its ears was nearly overwhelming.

..

* * *

Imoen staggered into the sanctum, rubbing her face, not sure what to do with herself. She wanted to dissolve. Crumble into a thousand pieces and fly away and bury into the earth; to hide and wait and have time just _stop_ so she could get a handle on everything and come back and handle things only when she was ready. She wanted to disappear. She wanted everything else to somehow disappear; but for somehow everything to be okay at the same time.

She felt selfish, drained, helpless, stupid, strung out and scraped painfully thin.

One of her first instincts was to run up to the highest floor of High Hedge she could reach and climb out onto the roof. That was what she and Aegis had always done as children when they'd wanted to escape people, be alone, or share secrets. They used to watch sunsets together, stargaze, and talk about what things would be like when they became heroes. But no, she couldn't hide from this.

The real world wasn't comparable to dreams of adventure. It was so much _better_, so much more tangible, and yet so horrifically worse. All of the great adventure stories... they always so clearly delineated heroes, villains, traitors, and anti-heroes. They gave no description of how muddy, hopeful, confusing, tragic, and jading the real world could be. In a book, everything was fated, foreshadowed, preordained, and foreseeable. Everything was dramatically appropriate.

Back when they'd been alive and in two cases human, what had Kelemvor and Midnight seen in Cyric? What had they hoped for, believed in, or resigned themselves to that had kept their party together up until the very end, when Cyric turned on everyone and everything and became the new god of death?

A young Imoen had been given luxury of having access to detailed recounting of major historical events, written in numerous hands; unlike a traditional tavern wench, she hadn't been fed on a limited diet of bardsong. And of course she had noticed discrepancies between the characterizations of some tales. But nothing could have prepared her for the real world.

Nothing could have prepared her for the playful humor of bribing a surly halfling; or a heart full of pity on finding a malnourished doomsayer of an elf curled up in a filthy prison cell; or feeling sympathy for an evil cleric women begging for help in the rain; or stealing her first kiss from a talented but friendless dragon who talked to himself whenever he got flustered.

Nothing could have prepared her for her lover trying to murder her sister; or Aegis hacking a party member to death with his own axe; or standing by and saying nothing while a friend repeatedly abused the powers of enchantment; or that an elfin ranger putting an arrow in a bipolar drow for some act of cruelty could end up being a very bad thing; or that some people thought being evil was _justified _or subjective._  
_

The real world was dirty.

Imoen heard a cluck, and looked down to see a confused Melicamp waiting for her. He was clearly flustered by her distress. She choked a little on seeing him, and then a weak smile spread over her face and tears dripped down her cheeks.

"Imoen?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Hey Melicamp," she mumbled. "Will you be my friend?"

Short of a fortress of monks, a handleful of regular guests, a sister, and a cowherd; Edwin, Montaron, Xan, and to a lesser extent Dynaheir and Garrick were Imoen's only friends in the world. They comprised nearly the full extent her worldly experience, and her only adult relationships; and _all_ of but one of them had let her down in some big way. And the one who hadn't let her down was gone; Garrick had left for Baldur's Gate even under heavy bandit activity, and his safety was still uncertain.

Melicamp straightened, fluttering his wings. "O-of course!" he exclaimed, tottering up to her."Of course, Imoen!"

Imoen laughed and more tears fell as she knelt and picked the chicken up, nuzzling into his white fluffiness. "Good, cause I sure need a hug right now," she told him, and her voice cracked in two.

Melicamp lacked arms, but it occured to him that he was at least a good subject for hugging. He stretched out his wings to 'hug' her as best he could, and snuggled close for all that he was worth.

..

* * *

..

[I need to pet your panther,] Aegis blurted, interrupting the no-doubt fascinating conversation between the two elves. Both rangers looked at her. Aegis straightened. [I miss my harem of cats back home, and I am overwhelmed with a desperate need to scratch the kitten's ears,] she confessed, feeling no more intelligent than Minsc at the moment.

Drizzt blinked and then a smirk trailed over his face and he looked down at the panther. [Well, Guenhwywar, what do you think?]

The creature seemed to regard Aegis and then sauntered forward to investigate her. It lifted its head upon drawing near and sniffed the air curiously for a moment. Aegis made eye contact, and then blinked slowly and slightly averted her gaze. The big cat sat and set to grooming itself, seeming unaffected. Aegis stepped closer. She offered a closed hand for investigation, and waited patiently.

Guenhwywar kept her waiting. And waiting. And then finally lifted her head and rubbed her face and the side of her mouth against Aegis' closed fist. The blonde ranger took this opportunity to initiate her first pet, and soon she had sat down as well and was rigorously scratching the big cat's ears.

[She will have you on your back demanding belly rubs if you are not careful!] the drow warned his feline, but the panther was too busy enjoying herself to heed his calls for dignity. [You have bewitched her, m'lady. Might I know to whom I speak?]

[Aegis,] the woman answered, dragging back the loose skin on the back of the panther's head with her fingers so firmly that it pulled back on Guenhwywar's eyelids. The panther did not seem to find this distressing; rather she was still vocalizing her contentment loudly. [Name's Aegis, of Candlekeep. Unless you're a bandit. Which I don't suppose you are.]

[You are having some personal trouble with these fiends?] he asked sympathetically. [My condolances. But Candlekeep, Candlekeep... I was not aware that many hailed _from_ that fortress! Have you ever met Cadderly Bonaduce, then? I know he occasionally traveled there.

[I've met a lot of really interesting people,] Aegis answered. [Everyone's always coming and going, and it's hard to keep track. But let me think.] She rubbed the panther's ears in big circles. [Mm. Priest of Deneir?]

[Yes!] the drow exclaimed, delighted.

[I think my father was acquainted with him,] Aegis decided. [You know him?]

[Cadderly and his wife Danica are good friends,] the ranger beamed. [Praytell, who was your father?]

[A Harper named Gorion,] Aegis answered, and then offed when Guenhwywar rolled over into her lap.

Drizzt paused. [Gorion... I _seem_ to remember a talented wizard by that name. Could hold his ale well, if I remember. Would he happen to have an overzealous drudic paramour who resorts to the use of a quarterstaff when her stern words somehow fail to drive home her ideas quickly enough?]

Aegis leaped to her feet, startling the big cat and staring at Drizzt with wide eyes. [_Jaheira!?]_

[That- that _was_ her name, if I remember-] Drizzt hesitated. [Is something wrong? I'm sorry, it may have been quite some time since I last saw him. Perhaps many years.]

The blonde ranger reeled. [Para... Param... _Hold _his_ ale?_ My mind is going to explode,] she decided.

[I... I'm sorry?] the drow hazarded.

[No, no. You've an elvish lifespan. You have no frame of reference for what it's like for us human children to find out our parents were young once, and did things like drink irresponsibly or court people,] Aegis mumbled.

[Actually...] Drizzt murmured quietly, as he suddenly recalled having a very similar reaction to this on the day he'd realized Zakafein must have once slept with Matron Malice Do'Urden... His face creased into an expression of sympathy.

Kivan huffed at her. [Similar to finding a nameless child you've once met has sprouted into a vivacious and bull-headed adult in less than two decades, I expect.]

..

* * *

When Edwin returned, he found that Imoen had apparently recovered. She was helping Thalantyr with the haul, and Melicamp was nestled in her lap like a nest. The Red Wizard paused for a moment, watching her work. Though he couldn't clearly see the document she was examining from his vantage point, he could tell she must have been distracted by a magic scroll. The way her fingertips trailed over the paper as if sketching shapes or sigils was familiar to him. It was familiar because it was his _own_ habit; and it struck him in that moment that she must have learned it from _him_.

Something about that made him uncomfortable, and he took in a slow breath to steady his tired mind. "_Kwefai,_" he called, coming up beside her and reaching out momentarily to touch the crown of her head. She tensed slightly. {I want to speak with you.} There was a strange reversal to the statement.

Imoen glanced up at him almostly shyly, and then quickly averted her gaze. "I'm busy," she answered, waving away his hand.

{Now, please.} He'd be more civil in tone than she'd even been with him; that ought to get her attention.

It did, though she didn't look at him. She sighed, rolling up the parchment she was looking at and setting it aside. Her eyes roved over the materials yet to be identified. {Alright. What is it?}

Edwin took a brief moment to gather his thoughts. When he spoke, it was not without a little disbelief at his own mild tone: {I am... I am your tutor. I should not have been filling your ears with such words. Not after you have helped me and ehm, not when it clearly meant so much to you.}

Imoen paused for a moment, letting these works sink in. Then she looked up at the Thayvian with a tired expression. {What?}

{I am attempting to retract what I said,} he explained, trying to get this over with swiftly. {You were only asking me... quite reasonably... for explanations. I reacted harshly in turn.}

{You... you are _apologizing_?} she wondered, so focused on the strangeness of the _verb_ that she could not yet form any opinion on its context.

The Red Wizard did not answer that, and was quiet. He did not appear to be mocking her, and his face was somber.

Imoen was quiet for a moment, her heart speeding up as this put her on the spot. She was not in a good frame of mind for handling this sort of thing at the moment! Edwin's historic lack of apologies suggested he'd put serious thought into this one, so she couldn't just brush it off. But it wasn't like she was just _pouting_, and everything could be made better with a wisp of manufactured kindness! {I...} she said slowly, but then wasn't certain where to take the sentence. {Um...}

Edwin fidgeted once. Then twice, when she failed to produce a verdict. {Yes,} he blurted at last. {Yes, yes. Fine. I am_ sorry_, Kwefai. Is that clearly put enough for you, or shall I repeat it in another tongue? Those words I spoke were but fanciful musings of an ugly lean, and I should not have subjected you to such visceral imagery.}

{I... I'm not a child to be kept in the dark about things! You still want to _kill_ her,} Imoen protested. {What you said was just the truth, and I can't ignore-}

{There can be no truth about events not yet come to pass!} he answered tersely. Then, seeing her distress, he sighed and lifted a hand to scratch gently at his temple, closing his eyes momentarily. {Imoen... Imoen, I am tired. I have not slept; I was flustered, and I am _bitterly_ angry with both the witch and my own failure to adequately defend myself. I-I _remember_ them pronouncing my sentence, and I remember the sensation of helplessness beneath their stares. I am not used to being... humbled... and I obviously would like retribution for that harrowing experience. But burdening you with my colorful daydreams was inappropriate of me.}

Humbled? Oghma above, Edwin was expressing _feelings_ to her. That made it worse, somehow! {Those 'daydreams' said something fierce about what you are,} she responded bleakly. His eyes darted to her, and a scowled worked its way across his lips. He straightened contemptuously, and she knew- because she knew him better that anyone- that his amateur attempt at reconciliation had not been disingenuous. He had put a great deal of his effort into making it, and she'd denied it for reasons he didn't even understand. {Edwin, some words are hard to get back once you've aired them!} she exclaimed, and her voice was raw.

{Yes, I've... _noticed_.} Was he pretending he_ hadn't_ burst out with any vulnerabilities? "I have made my offer to return to tutor you and you have made it clear I will be unwelcome.}

Imoen was trembling. Melicamp frowned, trying to reassure her. Thalantyr glanced up from his work; Mulhorandi might have been foreign babble to him, but he could certainly tell they were agitated from the pitch of their voices. {It's... it's not that I don't want to forgive you," she tried to explain, "but-but we don't even agree about what the problem to be forgiven is!}

Edwin watched her stonily a long moment.

She wanted to add something, to make some kind of logical argument, but suddenly she didn't have the energy anymore. She had no idea how anything could possibly be okay. She didn't even know if she _wanted_ him to stay anymore. {Why is this so important?} she managed at last. {I'm _begging _you not to do this. Begging you not to- to-} the words tumbled out in their primitive state, despite her attempts to shield herself from him, {to _abandon_ me. Why is killing some woman who never wanted this fight so _important_?}

Edwin tilted his head as if he'd suddenly been introduced to some novel concept. He glanced off to the side for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then his gaze turned back to her. {Imoen, I... I do not have... a _choice_. I must fulfill the task which has been given to me. I understand that this... _strains_ you. But I do _not _have the option of forfeiting. Therefore, my _only_ recourse, if I wish to continue as your tutor, is to return when the deed is done. Knowing that, will you not even take a moment to consider terms that might ameliorate the situation for you?}

Imoen looked stricken. {No! I'm not bargaining over Dyn's life!}

Edwin frowned, but this time he had a thread of understanding by whch to interprit her. {Monkey, how can you refuse me this one thing?} he asked, lowering his voice even further and stepping nearer to her. His eyes searched her face, and he seemed confused. {How can you not forgive me this one mission I cannot fail in? These things were set into motion long before I reached the Sword Coast and the consequences for failure already loom. If I could retroactively refuse the mission to appease you, I would unhesitantly do so and forget the witch ever existed. This I say _despite_ what she has done to me.}

Listening to him, Imoen was struck by the softness of his voice. Edwin was a man who muttered his plots aloud, and thought entirely too much about how other people percieved him; he did not have it in him to convincingly feign such gently-spoken supplications. He was trying; and yet even in _trying_ he highlighted his monsterousness.

{I am willing to bargain, Imoen. What do you want? The safety of your sister? A dozen slaves of your choosing, freed and spirited away from Thay into the arms of compassionate Harpers? Do you think I would now harm or seek out a mission to harm any other member of your party? Excuse this one deed, and you will see no further cause to hate me. I do not have any intention of abandoning or betraying you. But this is the _best_ I can do. If you refuse my offer- which I _believe_ is quite reasonable- then you are giving me no choice but to leave.}

This conversation was torture. Her best friend was irredeamably evil, and yet he was eschewing every scrap of pride he possessed to act like a real human being in an effort to keep_ her. _ She felt sick to her stomach. {Should I forgive Montaron his one transgression and let him kill Aegis?} she asked him, standing up slowly and hugging Melicamp to her shoulder.

{Dynaheir is not your sister!} he exclaimed, dismayed. {The halfling tried to kill _her_ on a whim for gold! The only reason you even care what happens to Dynaheir is because of lessons taught to you by monks you routinely stole from! Is my company not worth the warm sensation of self-righteousness in your breast which defending her seems to give you?}

Imoen shook her head rapidly. {Hurting her spits on everything I believe in, and I won't validate you in doing it for a second. We all have our own choices to make! And I _don't_ believe you'll get the jump on her! Dyn will survive!}

{Ha! As if she could-}

Imoen wasn't done: {-so you might as well pack up and go home to your stupid authoritarian bird cage and enjoy watching your family breed fireball catapults to match you! Maybe you'll even go out and make a few of your own!}

That surprised him. He jerked backwards an inch. {You- you little-!}

Imoen whirled away from him, because she'd had quite enough of monsterous Thayvians and men who lacked any sense of right and wrong. Xan might have threatened geases, charmed people, and hit her with a Hold Spell, but it was high time Imoen had a heart-to-heart with the elf. At least she knew they could agree on _something _when it came to understanding eachother's motivations for action! She stalked off to head back upstairs.

Edwin hissed and stared after her in disbelief. He muttered a quiet: {But- but-!} under his breath and then shouted: {You will regret this decision when you are facing your bandits and your horned soldiers without a lick of real magical power to your name!}

She didn't so much as look back at him.

{Imoen! Face me!}

Nothing.

His nails curled into her hands. _She_ wanted an explanation for why _he_ was going to leave _her_? He had offered her everything! Everything he_ could_ offer! He had stooped far beneath his station, breeding, and power to make such offers, and _this_ was her reply!?

{D-D... _DAMN_ you,} he snarled, hardly able to believe this was the same girl who'd woken him up and dabbed his face with a moistened cloth to comfort him. He was beyond angry and somewhere left of enraged and north of exhausted; he was in some altogether undescribable level of unplesant emotion, and it was _painful_. {_Damn you! _I hope you remember this moment when you are watching the bastard behind this Iron Crisis running your sister through! May you understand your mistake when her blood has bathed the ground red!} Imoen didn't falter, and dissappeared up the stairs. {Fine. Fine, you wretched little cunt; Better her than I!}

..

* * *

Xan discretely cast both a _Tongues _and_ Clairaudience_ spell. Branwen pinched him for it, but didn't say anything aloud or try to stop him. Truth be told, they were _all _curious what it was the two drow were going to speak about. Kivan glanced over at him and then nodded in realization.

The topic of conversation had inevitably drifted to Viconia, who had been watching them with an incredulous stare for quite some time. No doubt she was somewhat miffed that another drow was galavanting about the surface and _not _facing all the hardships she was suffering. And a lowly male, at that! It was a pity she hadn't seen the other dark elf fight; but then, Aegis didn't want Viconia hitting on any more of her childhood heroes.

Actually, there was also a possibility that Viconia was irked they were all talking in elvish, a language she could not understand. Xan wondered if he might offer to teach ehr the tongue later, or if having a language on hand that many people other than Viconia spoke might actually be a good thing when talking with Kivan.

In any event, when Drizzt hesitantly approached Viconia with a curious expression upon his face, the party first stepped back to a very respectful distance, and then openly eavesdropped on their missing member. Ajantis was the only one set against the idea, and he glowered at them disapprovingly.

Drizzt had opened the conversation with an almost awkward greeting in the duo's native tongue, and Viconia had responded in a very clipped voice.

"Can you understand anything?" Aegis asked the enchanter.

"They are from the same city," Xan noted curiously. "They are comparing dates and-" cyan eyes blinked in rapid surprise. "He says house DeVir fell the eve of his birth. That his household took its place in the political hierarchy of their city. He mentions he even earned his panther in beating one of the house's meager survivors decades later."

Aegis frowned incredulously at Xan. "Drizzt Do'Urden is over a century old," she reminde dhim.

Xan looked up at Aegis with wide eyes. "I... I don't think she realized how long she'd been alone in the dark," he responded quietly.

Aegis' lips parted. "That woman... speant a hundred years alone? In a pitch black cave, with no one but the darkness to talk to?"

"Well," Branwen decided, "that... _explains_ some things. Like why her mood's as shapeless as clay some days.

"They are talking of clerics now," Xan noted. "He's expressing... expressing _admiration_ for her."

Kivan scowled.

"How so?" Ajantis wondered, curious despite himself.

Xan shook his head. "He said he'd always assumed escaping Lolth to be impossible for her clerics. Disobedience, he says he's seen, and failure to uphold her favor; but never a successful liberation from her. He mentions his own pure-blooded sister might once have tried, but the goddess's influence was everywhere, her pull was inescapable, and her wrath was absolute. The moment her mind first glimpsed hesitation, the Spider queen would have ensured her reprogramming, or her demise. I-"

Xan drew back, shaking his head, "- this conversation is getting personal," he told them. "Much as I might wish to gain greater insight into the workings of Viconia's mind, this does not feel right. I do not want to listen in on or relate any more of their speech.

There was a moment. Branwen stared at him in disbelief. Then she suddenly laughed and clasped his shoulder. "Alright. Who are you and what have you done with Xan?" The enchanter blinked and frowned at her.

"I am not insensitive to-"

"Nae, nae," Branwen chuckled, stepping close to embrace her companion. "I'm impressed with you and your restrain, wee man. Don't go giving me a lecture now!"

_.._

* * *

Tonight's forecast: Raining with a chance of Giant Spirit Bat.


	44. Depression

**Depression**

**..**

* * *

{I never said I wanted you to die!} the pink thief shouted down at him from the second floor just as Edwin turned away. The sound of her momentarily staggered him, although he could not begin to comprehend why. He looked hesitantly up at the landing, his face heated with fury and indignation. {So don't you dare!}

{What!?} he exclaimed in exasperation.

{Dont. Die!} she instructed angrily. {Are you stupid or something!?}

Edwin gaped up at the landing.

"You two bicker like children," Thalantyr noted aloud. "Loudly. In other people's homes, while they are working. Are you married?"

Edwin turned his gape onto the archwizard. Then a horrified snicker bubbled up in the Red Wizard's throat and leaked out. Edwin tried to contain himself, he truly did, but a hard laugh and some accompanying chuckles got free as he covered his mouth with a hand.

Thalantyr glanced up at him and raised a brow. Then he frowned, noticing that the man looked to be on a verge of a fit.

"I... I need to lay down," Edwin decided with a blithe lilt to his end of his voice. "Before I become as hysterical as an ehm, an _enchanter_."

"Yes, I think you should," Thalantyr agreed warily. "Your pack is just behind you."

"Eh? So it is. Yes."

..

* * *

Though it took them farther off the beaten path, the group decided to accompany Drizzt to deal further with the gnolls plaguing the area than even Thalantyr had requested. Mostly this was because Kivan was going to do so whether or not they stayed with him, and Do'Urden was happy leave them with any and all of the loot.

That's when they ran into the gang of ogres and half-ogres.

Three severely gore-covered, blood-soaked, and happy rangers later, and the trio was realizing they had a whole new shared trait to bond on: an intense hatred of ogres. Or giants, as the larger classification of creatures might be. While the rangers grinned like children and tried to get random organs and bits of offal off one another, Xan sighed and covered his face, shaking his head.

"We need to get all three drunk in the same room together," Branwen decided.

Xan sighed. "If this keeps up, I feel a little sorry for the region's ogre population, and wonder if this might have any serious ecological repercussions... Or result in more people trying to kill us for some reason."

Ajantis thought that Viconia had been unusually quiet and introspective since they'd joined the other drow. She was watching the trio of rangers, but she seemed to sense his gaze because she looked up at him. He smiled. "Well, I'm hungry," he decided, setting to removing his pack. She lifted a brow.

He rummaged around within for a moment, drawing out a small box of carefully cushioned pita wraps. "Would you like to share my provisions with me? I am afraid the fair is probably most unlike what people are used to in Baldur's Gate, but-"

"I've been to Amn before," She interrupted.

The knight paused. "You, ehm... you have?"

"Yes. I came to the surface in Amn. A caravan rescued me from certain death and then conscripted me as a pleasure slave," she answered.

Ajantis's expression plummeted. "What?"

She lifted a brow. "Truth be told, I enjoyed it. Within days I had seduced the caravan owner and directed it whenever I pleased. It was a nice break from the constant paranoia of being hunted. I only even left because the poor fool died of a heart attack in his sleep, and the guards assumed I had murdered him."

Staring down at her, Ajantis was struck by the realization that had probably never wanted to hug anyone else so much in his life, nor simultaneously been relatively unable to ever do so.

..

* * *

When Imoen had composed herself, she returned to the ground floor and found her wizard curled up against a wall, sound asleep. Melicamp went and apologized to Thalantyr on her behalf, which was an adorably sweet thing of him to do.

Imoen watched her mentor sleep, noting his even breathing and the dark circles under his eyes. He had both arms curled under his head as if to cushion himself from the discomfort of the ground.

Maybe things would better when he'd rested.

It wasn't forgiveness she felt; it was some weird plateau of resignation and sadness. She still _cared_, and cared a great deal... but in the end it didn't really matter. After a moment she shuffled up to her pack, picked up her own blanket, and folded it into a more comfortable rectangle. Then she came back to her unconcious mentor, and gingerly pressed it up against his cheek.

Sleeping-Edwin took the bait, claiming the makeshift pillow instinctively and smearing his face into it. He no doubt would also have been a terrible blanket thief in cold weather. Just as good that he'd be leaving before winter hit.

Her fingers absently caressing over his hair. It was thick hair, mundane in temperament and with volume as opposed to straight. Physically speaking, there was nothing extraordinary about him at all. Awake and glowering, Edwin was quite a character; but while asleep he was merely an unremarkable man with brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin.

{Greedy dragon,} she murmured, with but a fraction of her usual fondness. She was too tired of everything.

Thalantyr watched her curiously, sensing the complex dynamics at work in a party where clearly not all the members were on the same spiritual page. He said nothing until she rose and joined him over the haul, sifting through what left had to be identified. When she sat down, he gestured to a stack and she wordlessly set to helping him.

"If I might ask," he began casually, "what makes a thief and burglar interested in magic?" Imoen looked at Melicamp and then to Thalantyr.

"I've always sorta had a premier in magic," she answered quietly. "My sister's da was a mage."

"Your sister's... father... But not yours?" he blinked.

"Aegis and I were orphans," she explained. "We were brought to Candlekeep near about the same time. Her da was a wizard named Gorion; I was raised by the fortress tavern keeper."

Thalantyr leaned back in surprise. "You were reared in _Candlekeep_? I did not realize they permitted young children..."

Imoen smirked, a little bit of mirth coming back to her as she thought about her childhood. "We were! Well, anyway, as a result of that experience we are probably the best-educated non-wizard-and-non-noble people in all of the everywhere. And I slur my conjugations and tenses, drop my 'g's, switch articles and qualifiers, misuse particibles, transform pronouns, and in general abuse grammar like a country bumpkin because my da had this accent, and I like it; so there."

Thalantyr lifted a brow and found himself smirking. What an odd child. "Gorion. Let's see... Gorion... The very same Harper who traveled largely over Amn and Sembia a few decades back?"

Imoen paused. "You knew of him?"

"He was a common sight in some circles," Thalantyr agreed. "I traveled with or assisted his party at times."

How did _everyone_ know Gorion? Had he really been that important once? "What... what was he like?"

Thalantyr considered the question. "Clever," he answered. "Like you and Melicamp can be clever when you are not being incredibly stupid, I suppose. You have used the past tense with me; is he is no longer of this world? Odd. He was not that old."

"He was... _pretty old_," Imoen thought, remembering that Gorion's hair was completely silver and had been for as long as the pink thief could remember "But-"

"For an aasimar? Hardly," Thalantyr waved dismissively. "Did something happen?"

Imoen was quiet, processing. "An aasimar," she said slowly. "You... you mean a part-angel? Old Mr. G was_ part celestial_?"

Thalantyr lifted a brow. "How could you _not_ know that, if he helped rear you?" He frowned. "Hmm. He was _not_ very fond of his grandmother, and did not like to speak of the topic. But one assumes the _feathers_ ought to have given it away."

Imoen's lips parted as she thought back to a thousand memories of Gorion complaining about pigeons, and of finding neat piles of small silver feathers on the desk in his rooms. She slapped a hand over her mouth in awe.

..

* * *

Edwin was still out cold, and the sky was growing dark. Imoen was had recovered somewhat and was more concerned with the fact that the party was running late and most likely they would have to camp at High Hedge rather than getting back to Beregost that evening. There was a light rain outside that had started in the mid-to-late afternoon, and visibility would be too low for a party to travel through the evening.

She, Melicamp, and Thalantyr had finished cataloging and identifying the haul. The archwizard was contemplating returning to his frantic research, but Imoen noticed he kept looking to a very elaborate and well-written primer on divination. Imoen had glanced at it herself, and the layout was clear, concise, and absolutely phenomenal from her perspective. On the other hand, it was also directed towards novices.

"If you don't read that, all because you're supposed to be this big-bad-scary archmagus who can fiddle with Netherese magic and has a reputation to uphold, I'mma lose all respect for you good sir."

Thalantyr scowled at her. A moment passed in silence. Then the wizard sighed, snatched up the volume, and found himself a comfortable care to study in. Melicamp took notes.

With nothing left to do, Imoen looked slowly over at Edwin. An uneasy malaise settled over her again. Was she okay with walking over there and sitting beside him to study? She wasn't sure. Even the sight of him was starting to make her skin prickle with the memory of how _hopeless_ everything was. He had been her mentor for quite some time now, and Imoen had sidled up beside him to bother him long before that.

But now everything seemed tainted somehow, and she knew that her attachment to Edwin was _exactly_ what had cluttered her head for so long. She warred internally over what to do for a moment before finally submitting. "I'm starting to get really worried about my party," she decided aloud, moving over to sit beside her wizard. How long was it going to take till she stopped thinking of him as hers? Difficult to say. She gently picked up his spellbook and then began searching through it for something interesting to study.

The hours passed in silence. Imoen became agitated. While the red of dusk was still on the horizon, she put away Edwin's spellbook and slowly moved up to the sanctum doors, peering out into the steadily increasing gloom. The air smelled of autumn.

"Aeg, where are you?" she murmured to herself, brows drawn together. It was somewhat reassuring to think her sister at _least_ had Kivan. As competent as anyone else in the party might have been, Kivan had absolutely uncanny survival instincts and Imoen wasn't such an unobservant chickadee that their quiet bonding had escaped her notice. Imoen thought she could trust Kivan to get Aegis out of nigh anything.

..

* * *

"We are near High Hedge," Khalid noted curiously as he knelt and cupped his hands together. Jaheira placed her foot over his fingers and her hands on his shoulders, and he stood and pushed upward rapidly to boost her into the trees. She grabbed one of the overhanging branches and was quickly up in the canopy.

Most definitely," Minsc answered after a brief conversation with his rodent. "Boo knows it."

"High Hedge... The party might be haggling with Thalantyr at present," Dynaheir noted worriedly. "He was the one who sent us into Ulcaster. I can go no closer with Edwin still among them."

Khalid nodded in understanding. "D-do not worry, w-we understand."

Dynaheir tried to wait patiently for news, but when the druid did not immediately give them any information, she raised her voice nervously. "Jaheira? Doest thou see her? Is she moving?"

"Not so _loud_," the elvish woman hissed. "As if the tormented wolf packs were not bad enough, this region is suffused with unnatural vermin..." Dynaheir winced and then folded her hands and waited as Jaheira climbed down to the lowest bow and leaned down to speak quietly with them: "She's taken flight again and is circling High Hedge from above. Whatever she came for, she must have found it."

Khalid looked curiously to Dynaheir, who nodded as if this news made sense to her. "Let us but keep an eye on her then. Thalantyr may not take kindly to strange Spirits about his home, and I wish to be swift to act should danger befall her." _  
_

Jaheira frowned and watched the witch with concerned eyes. "Dynaheir, you may realize I have not always been thrilled with some of Aegis' eccentric recruitment ideas, but you have always ranked chief among them. Do...do you feel you cannot trust us with whatever plagues your countenance?"

"I am sorry, sweet Jaheira," Dynaheir began. "I feel whatever this Spirit has come to do carries an aura of privacy, and I am uncomfortable even in knowing what little I do," she explained. "Please forgive me my silence; all I wish to do now is make sure she is able to carry out her task and return home safely. As I am a Wychlaran, she is my charge."

..

* * *

Edwin grimaced, sitting up with a dizzy expression on his face and rubbing dryness from his eyes. He paused suddenly, touching his temple. Then a look of terror crossed his face before twisting into confusion. His gaze jumped across the sanctum to the outer doors. One had been closed against the evening weather, while the other stood partially ajar. Scrambling to his feet, he trudged quickly up to the doors and grasped one as he peered out. There was a slightly overhang to the 'porch' and Imoen stood there, leaning against the wall and staring quietly out into the darkness.

{How?} he asked her bluntly, his voice dry from sleep. Imoen jumped in surprise and looked at him. {I missed the casting.}

Imoen evaded his gaze as if she had no interest in talking to him. {You looked exhausted and I didn't want to wake you,} she answered. {So I cast it for you.}

Edwin leaned his shoulder into the doorway, staring at her with shuttered eyes for a moment. Silence settled over them. Then he took in a long breath and rubbed a hand over his face. {It took you a day,} he muttered in disbelief. {Earlier, you weren't taking a break; You were finished and it took you but half a day.}

His apprentice shrugged. {You explained it to me the whole way here,} she reminded him, looking back at him despite herself. {Plus I was there watching while you footed all the work of figuring it out. Monkey See, Monkey Do.}

Edwin dropped his hand thoughtfully to his mouth and chin, and looked at her. {Were you discreet?} he wondered suspiciously. She hadn't been so foolish as to hint to Thalantyr of her value, had she?

Imoen eyed him without feeling {Soon it's not going to be your problem anymore.} _That_ shut him up. She couldn't help some satisfaction at the idea that even he could bleed. But looking at his face, she could see grim resignation, the same as her own, and something else, something like _naches*. _Her stomach twisted unpleasantly.

{It's night,} he noticed after a long a moment. {The party did not return?}

{They have to! They said they would!} the thief blurted suddenly. He lifted a brow, slowly stepping out under the overhang and looking out into the forest. Without the moon to see by, and with rain and fog in the air, they could scarcely make out the silhouettes of trees.

{... It looks significantly more reasonable to assume that they have been delayed,} he observed, leaning against the opposite wall and crossing his arms over his chest. The night air was chilly.

Imoen scowled, some more animation coming back to her. {Then I'm staying right here until they come back.}

{Kwefai, that is not going to get them here faster or safer. It is a pointless expenditure of both time and energy. They probably made camp and we can expect them in the morning.}

{I don't care. I'm staying _right here_.}

He sneered, peeved by how irrationally and dramatic she'd been behaving the whole day. "You are fool if you've mistaken a show of nervous energy for a display of solidarity.}

She grimaced. Then her stubborn visage cracked. "Where are they?" she asked in her native Thorasta. " What if something happened to them? Isn't there any way we can find out where they are? Maybe they need our help. Maybe they are in trouble right now!"

"Or maybe there were simply many miles for them to cover and gnolls for them to kill and they are late," Edwin retorted.

"Or perhaps they were all turned into chickens," Thalantyr interjected, coming up to observe the two of them. "This is the conjurer's folly, girl. Mark it well and do not specialize." Edwin glanced at the man in annoyance.

Imoen writhed. "Thalantyr... do you have any unused divination scrolls about, anything that could help, which I could study?"

"You are going to learn a new school of magic no one can teach you, memorize a new spell vastly above your level, prepare and cast it without practicing, then head out on a rescue attempt, all in one night eh?" Thalantyr asked. It wasn't that he guessed what Imoen was; he was merely pointing out the impossibility of her goal. Still, Edwin glowered at her with a note of resentment. He had accepted a thousand restrictions in teaching her, and imposed only two of his own: one of which had been for her to conceal her talent.

"Well. It'll keep my head busy," Imoen murmured dejectedly.

Thalantyr considered his and then nodded to himself, turning to go see what he had. Another silence stretched across between the partied duo. "_Kwefai_," Edwin began strategically, stepping towards her and uncrossing his arms to grasp her shoulder that he mgiht turn her to face him. "I am sure they are fine." She surprised him in shoving his hand away.

"Yeah, you'd just love watching all of them die, wouldn't you?" she snapped. "Maybe I'd finally be on your side and listen to you if I had nowhere else to go!"

"Imoen," he exclaimed irritably, snatching at her.

"No- No _Fuck off_!" she howled, throwing his hands back and stepping away from him. "I don't want you _touching_ me! I don't want to be _anywhere near you_! I've had enough of psychotic assassins to last nine lifetimes, and I am so damn _tired_ of surrounding myself with people who don't give - don't give _two shits_ what's _important_ to me! I'm sick Edwin, sick to_ death_ of people who think 'right and wrong' is a matter of 'right for whom?' Just- just-!" She gave a sudden shriek of fury and then, without another walk, stalked off into the rain.

Staring after her, brows furrowed, a Thayvian was rather certain he did not at all like this new dynamic.

..

* * *

"Imoen is going to _kill _me," Aegis moaned, staring out from the Red Ridges down at the forested lands below.

Kivan patted her shoulder with mute sympathy and then went back to watching the clifs for danger.

"She is going to worry," Ajantis agreed. "But there is little to be done. We weren't expecting to actually stumble into the source of the... the..." he looked to his cleric.

"The _ley line_ disruptions," Viconia supplied her paladin with the correct terminology from where she was helping Branwen.

"Why are there four of you?" Xan asked Viconia, looking blearily at where she was holding his shoulder steady. "I barely know what to do with _one _day to day." Then his stomach heaved and Branwen rapidly redirected his head so he puked onto the ground instead of all over their dark elf.

The dark elf sighed. "I _told_ all of you fools that we ought not to be poking around in that cavern. You are lucky there were two of a noble race to soak so much magical energies on your behalf, and that these were the only afflictions we suffered! What would you have done had those shamans not been preoccupied with myself and the surface-loving jaluk? We would all be feeding gnoll bellies at this very moment!"

Aegis looked bashfully up to where a white-furred squirrel was sitting atop her head. "Well, first of all, _had you both not volunteered_, I would have led the charge," the ranger told them, reaching into one of her belt pouches and drawing out a handful of nuts. She offered a collection up for the squirrel's inspection. It appeared he was fond of pistachios.

"Second of all, I would have shrugged off spells pretty well for not having any magical immunities; I am hardier than both of you." Urso became concerned by the fact that anyone was getting food without him. He came up to her leg to investigate, and Aegis offered her companion the rest of the nuts, pouch and all. He sniffed it and then snatched it and pulled the mouth of the bag open with both hands to investigate. "Third of all, I would have probably been turned into a squirrel eventually. However, I would have still been beserk, and I'd have probably have made for a very large squirrel, so at least one shaman would be dead owed to having their throats turn out by my saber-fanged fury."

Urso found the booty quite acceptable. He looked from the bag up to Guenwyhwar who, for obvious reasons, was following Aegis very closely. After a moment's thought, the racoon offered the feline one of his peanuts as a consolation. Aegis sighed. "And lastly, I would not have had the absolutely _honor_ of being privy to perhaps the _best_ tavern story that I will _ever_ be able to say I was personally present for."

The squirrel broke down giggling. Kivan sighed. Branwen cackled. "I really, _really _hope this isn't one of those really _bad _curses like Edwin or Melicamp's under," Aegis prayed. "Because I don't think we'd ever live down _The Epic Quest to De-squirrel-inate Drizzt Do'Urden_. That would haunt us all to the end of our days, I just know it."

..

* * *

{This is stupid,} the Thayvian muttered to himself as he enchanted himself with a waterproofing spell and set out from the entryway. {Intelligent peoples do not wander about in the woods looking for trouble in the evening hours...}

And they especially did not do so in search of pink waifs whom had yet to return from extended temper tantrums. Which was why Edwin was simply on a walk to clear his thoughts, and nothing more. If he just happened to bump into the child, well, then that would be a coincidence.

He warmed up as he walked, and the cool breeze became an almost pleasurable sensation after several minutes. The smell of autumn was foreign to him, and he scowled at it all. Nature was to Rashemen as Order was to Thay; that he felt _any_ interest in the former only emphasized his appreciation for the latter. It took a shaping will to slap the beast into proper order; to give purpose and form to what once was little more than an overgrown and under-utilized resource.

A nagging sensation which had helped drive him from High Hedge's doorstep had intensified tremendously. He paused after a time, looking around the forest. Though the rain was not powerful, he could hear nothing of skeletons or living creatures. The trees swayed slowly in the wind, creaking at times. The Thayvian frowned, and then turned about to catch sight of High Hedge's luminescence, ensuring that he had not lost his way. What was wrong, then? _Something_ prickled under his skin.

That was the moment he realized he was not alone. He heard the encroacher before he saw them, crackling and snapping through the canopy branches. Whirling about, Edwin spit out protective words of Draconic, searching for the source of the disruption. His eyes widened when a fresh illumination came from above and behind him, and green-blue spirit fire began licking out between the leaves.

The last time he'd seen such a phenomena, it had involved Dynaheir's coven. Aside from that, he'd witnessed it rarely and never far from Lake Mulsantir! {No-! How-!?} he sputtered, trying to figure out exactly what was happening.

Branches crackled and pushed aside. Words for offensive conjury died on the Red Wizard's lips, as he froze up in shock. His mouth dripped agape in sickened disbelief as an enormous dire bat pushed her way through the canopy and into view.

His first thought, pushing past icy numbness, was to note that she must had gotten bigger. She'd been no heavier than he, and now her body was the size of a heavy war charger's. Her wings splayed out through the canopy as a Wyvren's. Green fire radiated off of her in great tendrils, projecting a well of spiritual power it might have taken a lesser beast hundreds of years to accumulate.

Then she had spotted him through the twilight gloom, and the white mask fixated on him immediately; the dark eyes as consumptive voids.

{K-kossuth,} he sputtered the name of his elemental patron as a curse, unable to look away from her stare. {_You?_}

She straightened and seemed almost as if she might say something. Instead, she lunged down out of the trees, rushing to close the distance between them.

Edwin scrambled backwards in alarm. {Keep away!} he shouted frantically, throwing out his arms before him. {Keep away from me!}

Instantly she was before him, her nostrils flaring and her enormous wings latched about low-hanging boughs. The mask watched him with a cold and stony judgement, ghostly and nightmarish. The sigils about the eyes and cheeks were still clearly against the splintered and aged white wood even after a full dozen years of being carried about in the wilderness

He grabbed at his belt dagger, unsheathing and pointing the tip at her breast. If she so much at touched him-!

The mask tilted to the side. {Doest thou fear me?} she wondered, her words floating into his mind. The sound of her voice sent a liquid shudder down his spine. The sound of it was distinctive and unmistakable, like gravel mixed with warm honey. Instantly there was sweat on his palms and he was breathing heavily. He could smell non-existant blood and feel the rich, red ichor over his fingers; but the fantastic sensations were overwhelming to the point of pain.

{If you come an inch closer I will finish what I started!} he snarled, his arm shaking with adrenaline. {I did not survive that coven just to be put down by some undead, pagan abomination!}

The mask watched him a moment more, the beast's nostrils still flaring as she breathed in heavily. When she spoke, her voice carried rich tones of awe and adoration: _"Ükere scüttendh adina an Bayhean, Mháthair, agve Gizlach Ceann."_

All color drained from his face when he realized the Spirit was not there to kill him, but to act on his _behalf_. His lips parted.

{Thou made a supplication,} she thought aloud. {Yes. Yes, I heard the child's voice, as my dreams wandered the astral, and my flesh ate the fruit of the land.} Her voice trailed off as she contemplated these memories. {Twelve made the Circle; but there were thirteen voices...}

He shook his head, his left hand drifting of its own accord up under his right shoulder, to where an undamaged tatoo twisted over the entirety of his shoulder and shoulder blade. A disbelieving sneer curled his mouth. {You _were_ the one who interrupted that ritual then, eh? Tell me, oh great and _powerful_ chiroptera, does that mean you also _overheard_ it?}

{Thou asks if I know thine purpose in these lands? The reason for my Sisters' ire? Of course,} she responded. {But thou requires absolution from a Wychlaran. I shall give this to you.}

{You- what-!?} he exclaimed, chagrined. Then a look of pure loathing absorbed his face and he threw forth a disgusted: "{_NEVER_! You think- you think I would make any promises to _you_!? Lowly, pissant remnant, you-} he hissed, tearing to the side to try and escape her. With a lunge, she put herself in his way. He stopped short, jaws clenched with loathing and readiness.

{No promises have been asked for,} she responded, creeping towards him.

Without hesitation, he grasped the hilt of the dagger with both hands and brought it in a slice across the front of her chest. Blood spurted over his fingers and the aroma of iron blossemed through the air. Edwin grinned fiercely, bitterly at her, but the Spirit did not so much as flinch in reaction. She paused her forward motion and then tilted her head to the side. The mask stared into him, bone white and without expression. Blood oozed downward, matting her fur. His smile faltered.

{What does thou believe thee can do onto me which thou hast not already done?} she wondered softly.

He tensed, brows lifting and pupils contracting. {You-you know _exactly_ what I _am_,} he struggled forcefully to eject the words from his lungs. {And what I can and _will_ do to that which stands in my way. Yet _you_ offer me a boon? To what effect!}

{To your health and survival,} she answered simply.

He laughed blackly. {Do you have some rivalry with some other Wychlaran which I am not privy to? I am going to turn around and _kill_ one of your own. I am going to _murder_ that Wychlaran child and burn her to cinders and I am going to _enjoy_ every moment of it. Do you think I am _stupid_ to accept favors from the ghosts of dead Hathran?! You,_ you_ are going to help _me!?}_

The creature watched him silently. Patiently.

Every moment of her calmness drove her words deeper into his head. By now at least her wounds were starting to clot, but her silence hit him like a cold wind whipping a candle. He took yet another step backwards, shaking his head and watching the mask with searching eyes. His shoulders trembled. {Why?} he croaked at last, betraying his underlying weaknesses to both of them.

{On behalf of a child, actions need no further justification.}

He lowered both his voice and his head, glowering up at her darkly. {You are an addled and deranged creature if you would let blood kin slaughter and undermine everything you stand for. I am a Red Wizard of Thay; and you know that better than _anyone._}

{Thou was born from the captivity of the body into the captivity of the soul; shall I contrast thee against daughters born 'neath meadows and stars?}

He looked full-on at her again, eyes widening in disbelief, disgust, and amazement.

She licked the air and then shook her head. {This was, and is, and shall always be my gift to you: Not that I shall give to thee what all children require; but that I shall give it in all thine darkness, without condition, forever.}

As a professional author of several infernal contracts, _that _phrasing was the straw which nearly drove Edwin to hysterics. His heart was racing at every exercise of her rich voice. His brief memories of its sound, of its soothing thunder, were made gray and washed out by comparison.

She lifted a wing to grasp a branch nearby, and hauled herself closer. He backpedaled rapidly, readying his dagger again. She pursued. {I assume thou will abuse it,} she told him. {I give it to thine abuse. I assume thou will deride it.} He tried to evade her through the trees, but she crawled around them in a rush. {I give it to thine derision. I assume thou will resent it, but also give it onto thine resentment.}

The Red Wizard tried to turn to escape, but with a lunge she had put herself in his way. He hacked at her again but missed. It was not because she dodged. {You s-stupid... wretched, perverse, geomantic... _figment!_} he hissed, holding the dagger aloft and feeling both an overwhelming impulse to slash and a terrifying numbness that made doing so impossible.

{I give it freely and understanding of its blackest potential for consequence. I give it fully, onto thee and thee alone,} she intoned adoringly, crawling forward and leaning close. {Thee. My child. My son.}

{I butchered you with less kindness than meat!} he shouted in frustration. He was not currently a twenty-seven year old Red Wizard outside of High Hedge near Beregost; This was too surreal for that. Was this a nightmare? {How could you do _anything_ on my behalf?!}

She nodded, watching through the eye slits of the mask that had once hung in his father's torture chamber. {I forgave you. I forgive you. Unconditionally, I shall always forgive you.}

He shook his head, jaw held open in a pained gape of rejection. He had enjoyed every _moment_ of her her murder, because he had never loathed anyone so much as her in his life. He hated her for every single time he'd ever heard the word 'halfblood,' hated her for every jeer, every whisper of unshared patriotism, and every accusation of imperfection that he'd ever received.

He hated her for the color, distribution, and texture of his own hair; for the fact that he was fifty pounds heavier than the average Mulan his height; for the diameter of his own bones; for everything that ever had or ever could be judged _off_ about or _wrong_ with him.

{You _sicken_ me,} he breathed. _Something unearned has _no_ value._

{But do you _fear_ me?} she pressed, asking if her point had been made.

His feet betrayed him. Shaking, he fell to his knees before her. His eyes dropped to the ground; the bloodied bloodied dagger slipped loose of his fingertips. He could feel the mask without looking, by instinct. When she close the gap between them and lowered her head, he knew exactly where it was. His fingers tingled anxiously; and within seconds the urge overcame him and he shaking fingers to brush the white faceplate.

..

* * *

_He stole her mask that evening; snuck it up to the room and considered whether to further deface it or keep it as a trophy of his own. The sight of it sent thrills of achievement coursing through him. He knew it was his dam's. __Homen had not told him but Edwin hadn't needed him to; __He could feel the blood tie resonating in recognition below his fingers, a wild and undocumented Wychlaran magic for which there were no books or primers. ____The way she had_ looked_ at him, his father's instance at keeping her both lucid and gagged; Homen Odesseiron had wanted to make sure she knew exactly whose hand she would die by, and that she could appreciate every expression of enjoyment on 'her' son's face._

_And oh had he enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it, both for himself and for love of the man who had desired her execution at his hands. Murdering her had been his proudest display of family loyalty, a fierce and glorious insistance that he would one day be a Red Wizard of Thay._

_Sneering victoriously, Edwin set the mask down on his blankets and admired what it represented. The could have been no grander birthday present then the right to murder that dark-skinned whore._

_And then he felt a less pleasant shudder as adrenaline and excitement failed. He felt another and another, until he was crumpled in the wash room, vomiting copiously into the waste pail and shaking violently. There wre tears on his face at one point; but he was very careful not to make a sound._

_When he returned to his bedroom and collapsed on the comforters, the mask was still there. He ran his fingertips over the white faceplate hesitantly, noticing the warm tingle under his fingertips and the strange sense of familiarity it held for him._

_It occured to him that he did not know her name, or the sound of her voice. All he knew of her was that she had been a Wychlaran Hathran, and that was by the white mask he now held. Looking over it, he took in its details. Aside from the bleaching and bright titanium infusion, it had few details. The most noticeable features were the mane of blue heron feathers, and the sigils of wings which had been painted around the eyes and cheeks. They were styled differently than popular Thayvian runes. Off hand, he would guess they might be bat wings. Rashemi cared more for animals than symbols of power._

_He wondered if he had any pure siblings. By the state of her health, any pregnancy at all would have been difficult. Her bones had put her in her late forties or early fifties, which suggested her monthly bleeding might have ended recently. Perhaps she had been relatively barren all those years, but had only been disposed of when her potential usefulness had been inarguably depleted._

_He eased the mask under his pillows and then tried to get some sleep, his fingertips still tucked beneathe the linens to touch all that remained of his dead mother._

_.._

* * *

_Tormented and still-reeling from the sudden and muddy collision of two distant soul fragments, the bat could barely fly straight. Surthay's midnight thunderstorm was not helping things, and she did not have the luxury of making a mistake. Homen understood spiritual magic no better than the simplest of ethrans, regardless of her influence; but if he had even the smallest inkling that she had escaped her own destruction, then she might only have moments._

_They would be worth it._

_She found what she was looking for, and was grateful she had spent her familiar had spent?- they were both one and the same now, so the only correct word was: 'She' had speant the last few decades growing fat on mangoes and grapefruit._

_She curled her left wing in, and then slammed through the window's wooden locks and surging inward. It was incredibly late, and yet a candle was lit. A boy sat beside his lavish bed with an open spellbook draped over his thigh. He'd been casually inking his arm with a needle, and he looked up her invasion in surprise and alarm._

_It was obvious to her that she was going to enjoy a second death that day; so she had nothing to lose. She surged inward, grasping messily at the walls and floorboards in her haste to get to him, to smell him, to touch him._

_He kicked backwards in surprise, dropping the needle and grabbing at her shoulders in a frantic attempt to avoid having his face bitten off. The moment she was within reach, she licked him clear up the side of his cheek. {The nine hells-?} he voice broke off sharply and his eyes widened._

_"Thou can tell?" she wondered aloud in astonishment. This beautifully ironic reminder that the boy was a pure-blooded and talented mage, when Rashemi boys could not be taught magic, was moving to her in that moment. There were two sides to every coin._

_{Of course I can tell!} A wide-eyed expression came over his face. {How can I tell? How-? Get- get off of-!}_

_{Then doest thee know who I was to thee?}_

_The teenager paused in struggling, looking back to her. {I...} Then he looked to his nightstand where a sheathed dagger rested. He looked at her with a sneer that seemed so premature on his young face. {Nothing. Never once anything.__}_

_{I wish there was more I could do for you,} she murmured._

_His voice faltered. __{What?}_

_{Forgive me for bearing you into a cage. Forgive me for lacking the strength to smother us both.}_

_His snarled. {Cage?! You_ dare_?! I _killed_ you!} he exclaimed as if explaining his tremendous power over her and his fury that she could in any way suggest she might pity him. _

_{It was past my time; I who had been martyred to a dead cause long before thine birth. Thy life is all that matters now, not mine.}_

_That she so easily dismissed his actions enraged him. {You- you have no idea what I even am; what I will become; you have never even met me-!}_

_{I met thee the day thou began to move. When I begged extra food for thine growing heart and lungs, and performed services for the guards, to earn fresh greens to make strong your bones and nerves. I met thee when thou first kicked me. When thou could not sleep at nights. When I sang to thee. I met thee when thou chose to come into the world. When I bit back the pain and worked tow days to bear thee in silence; when I gathered thee to my breast and nursed you. Your screams brought the guards, but I fed thee three days my most valuable milk to make you healthy and strong all the days of your life._

_{You; you who were nursed thrice in the name of the Lady, the Mother, and the Hidden One; I have met thee. I only wanted to meet thee one last time.}_

..

* * *

He was vaguely aware of High Hedge's illumination, once the green fire was gone. It took years to rise to his feet. It was cold. Sounds were muffled. Extremities were numb. The mind was cloudy.

Still, he didn't lift his head. He hadn't watched her take off, and he didn't want to risk glimpsing her dark silhouette should moonlight slip through the clouds.

He picked up the dagger and cleaned the blade before sheathing it. The grass before him was torn open with ruts from her hind legs, from toes reversed from what would have been normal on any other animal. Wind blew.

Edwin shook his head and then turned, walking with slow and measured paces. He passed one tree, and then another. When the light noises of crackling leaves approached him, he did not immediately notice; he was so far buried within in his own head. Then draconic oozed over the clearing, and he lifted his gaze to see a _Light_ spell come into being.

Imoen was standing there, not even two dozen yards away from where the Spirit had confronted him. Her wide eyes suggested she had seen and overheard nearly everything. She must have been tailing him beforehand.

Edwin faced her without expression. She tilted her head slightly to the side, rain patthering against her magically waterproofed hood.

His eyes narrowed an instant. Her weight rocked subtly back on the balls of her feet, away from him, yielding. Then her forehead furrowed more, in silent question. His lip curled slightly and he turned his head as if to look away. She stepped towards him once, quickly through the drizzle, catching his attention and lifting her other hand hesitantly. He stared at her. Her mouth pressed into a frown as she restrained herself.

A silence stretched. Something bubbled up; repressed in one instant and then suddenly loose and bared in the next. The Thayvian's face cracked. His brows drew together, and his lips parted in a trembling need for more air. Imoen shifted her weight from foot to foot watching as he breathed harder and tried desperately to stop _it_. Bitter anger mounted higher and higher, suffused with terrified dismay. His face flushed. She bit her lip, then released it and slowly eased a step forward across roots and twigs and the first of autumn's crisp, discarded leaves.

There she waited.

He lifted his chin and turned his head, but did not avert his eyes. His teeth clenched momentarily, but he was breathing too hard to even temporarily hold his breath. With a sharp exhale, he stepped forward. There his motion halted as it was reconsidered.

She shifted her weight instantly from the balls of her feet to her toes, and quickly stode forward. Composure left him and he staggered forward.

The girl slowed as she reached him, grasping his forearms and looking up at his face. Then she lifted her arms up under his shoulders and wrapped them about his back. His knees shook. He shattered in ways that provoked gasps of anger, fear, and pain from his lips; and then his shoulders bowed and he crumpled into his companion's arms, and she had to quickly shift her weight to accommodate his.

"I'm here," she promised. Then she repeated those words: "I'm here, I'm here," stacking them in a barricade against his insulted shame at finding such drivvle soothing. "I gotcha, I'm here."

She felt fingernails digging into her arms and then his hands closed around her shoulder blades and fisted hatefully into her hair. His gulps for air and shuddering gasps suggested he was working furiously to silence himself.

Edwin expected a third joust to echo those from earlier, and he was not sure he had any idea how mortally he'd be willing to throw a lance if it meant crushing her.

"D'ya love yer da, then?" she asked him of the man who had very purposefully bred him for the magic in his veins; who had forged his birth certificate to claim him as legitimate and then reared him with painstaking attention to detail so that he _might_ survive to adulthood. His thoughts died off suddenly. He stood there, groundless and quaking. Imoen listened to his ragged breathing for a moment. Then her fingers combed through his hair and she pulled him tightly into her shoulder.

He wasn't going to fail such a laughably trivial mission. She wasn't going to excuse him to facilitate his tutelage. There was no hope, and nothing whatsoever had been justified, forgiven, forgotten, or resolved in the slightest. He would be leaving.

His nails curled needingly against her scalp and the nape of her neck; he smothered his face into her hair, and understood nothing at all.

..

* * *

*naches: a Yiddish word meaning 'pride' or 'joy' that I was first introduced to in the discipline of game design. The utility of naches that makes me want it in the English language? There are no words in English for 'pride' that can reference specifically _pride for the achievements of another, as opposed to pride for oneself_, particularly a child's achievements when one is a parent/teacher/etc. 'Admiration' comes closest.

[Author's note]  
I think Xzar might finally be coming back sometime soon :3 _  
_


	45. Acceptance

This chapter tried to kill me.

..

* * *

**Acceptance**

..

* * *

Thalantyr had not been as stingy with silly pink thieves as he had been with unsavory Thayvians.

The first thin Imoen did with Edwin was sit him down on the side of the bed. The guest bedroom was small, and she could turn about without moving away from him. He had gone eerily silent not long after she'd reached him; but it was the silence one expected of a kettle _before_ the water was ready.

Speaking of kettles: There was a magically heated water pitcher from the countertop behind her, and a basin beside it. She filled the basin and dampened a towel in it. Steaming hot. Wringing the excess water out, Imoen turned back to her wizard and leaned over to gently dab his face.

He grimaced, closing his eyes temporarily as she did so. Then he lowered his head, making an expression of anger and disgust as his fingers loosened against her and drifted down her sides. He choked in a shaky inhale, and then seemed violently displeased with having made any sound whatsoever.

_Here it comes. _

Edwin didn't push her away. In fact, he didn't even release her entirely; his nails remained curled into the fabric at knee level. As she pushed back his hood and removed his circlet to dab at his hairline and temples, he started venting in short, hard pants. Each one that escaped seemed to be making him angrier. His face was flushed.

Imoen folded up the steaming cloth and gave it to him; he took it and pressed it firmly to his face with both hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. But as with any steaming kettle, the harder he throttled down on his vocalizations, the more noticeable they became. By rights they ought to have been called 'sobs,' despite sounding like no form of sadness that Imoen had ever been privy to. They were frustrated, and angry. Slowly, Imoen settled down to sit beside him. She watched him with concern for a moment, and then lifted a hand to his temple and gently stroked through his hair. {Edwin?} she began.

He hushed at the sound of a human voice; at the remembrance that he was showing signs of weakness.

{That woman... was she the same one from the story you told Dynaheir that day?}

He lowered the cloth a bit, and narrowed eyes flit to her. Then, with vicious pleasure, he nodded.

{How did she get her mask back?} the thief asked.

His eyes widened and the pupils contracted, but the brows remained lowered in an expression of fury. His shoulders tensed, and his whole body coiled slightly as if prepared to fight or flee. {_She_ is _no_ topic for you!} the Thayvian spat. He had little to no control of his voice, which was thick and hoarse. {Can you hold silence or must I resort to enchantment!?}

_What do you expect to see on my face? _she asked him wordlessly, searching his expression for answers. _What are you afraid of? __Disgust? Hate? Sympathy? Smugness? _After lowering her eyes thoughtfully a moment, the thief looked back up at him. {What school is your father's specialty?} she asked. {Conjuration?}

Edwin was so surprised by the abruptly themed question that he answered even past shaky breaths without thinking: {Invocation.}

Imoen nodded. {Invocation's opposite school is Enchantment. Would that explain why you have very few Enchantment spells, and your Fireballs can surpass Dyn's Lightning Bolts?}

She had called his bluff; she was his apprentice and had access to his spellbook. His gaze faltered, his breath-rate hastening.

{We should get some sleep,} she told him, lifting her hand again to pushes bangs back from his face. He shuddered, watching her. {You'll feel better in the morning.} Imoen lowered her hand and stood. She moved over to get herself a cup of water for drinking, and then set to removing her boots.

{I gave it to her,} Edwin loosed abruptly.

Imoen blinked, and looked up at him. He was glaring at the ground.

{The mask.} He was twisting the cloth.

Imoen stood up, trying to pry back the layers to figure out how her friend could be willing to volunteer information like that. {Do you know her name? Who she was?}

{No one and nothing!} he snapped violently, glaring at her. {I answered your question; now stop speaking of it!}

Imoen's eyes narrowed, sensing a desperate undercurrent to him. {She's your mother,} Imoen responded. {I would have thought you would want to know everything about her; about what her history would say about you-}

{It. Says. _NOTHING_,} he snarled violently. With the exception of his outrageously rolled 'r's, Edwin's voice became incredibly clipped when he was angry; He spat his plosive consonants, like 'b,' so sharply that the sounds almost vanished all together. {That whore provided a _den_ for a short time, a _vessel_, and _nothing _more!}

Imoen crossed her arms over her chest. {Okay. But where's her spellbook? What's the best spell she knew? Do you have and siblings who might be rivals? How did your father beat her in combat and take her prisoner? What were his tactics? Who might want to avenge her murder? Was she someone important? What information could you use about her to garner sympathy with Rashemi you later intended to betray, if needed?}

His jaw dropped momentarily with a noise of surprise. Then he snarled. {I-I am not some _Oghmite_ to be so upset by lack of knowledge!}

Imoen dropped her arms. {Edwin, you forget that _you_ are the one who got me to share the story of my fear of magic with _you_. You saw how I was acting then. Does anything seem _familiar_ right now?}

He straightened, fingers clenching into his palms. {You think me _affected_ by that woman's death!?} he nearly howled. {That her contribution to my blood makes me soft!? I suppose you think I should sympathize with Wychlaran then!? I murdered her, fool, and I enjoyed _every last moment_ of it!}

{You enjoyed tormenting and executing a Wychlaran enemy who was responsible for every social acceptance and hierarchical advancement problem you'd ever faced as a teenager in an environment with survival odds as bad as the Red Wizard Academy? Well, duh. Given what I know about you and about Thay, that sounds like a pretty foregone conclusion.}

He hesitated, his brows moving together.

"Except apparently there's a little more to ya than just that," Imoen noted softly, slipping into Thorasta. "Because if you think I can't see how upset you are, I've done got some bad news for ya. Maybe the full weight of 'I killed my own mother' is just a bit heavier than 'I killed that damn woman who was responsible for all this'? "

That made him angry. The way he heated up bright red in the face and clenched his jaws together was evidence enough. He clearly did not trust himself to articulate anything without his voice cracking.

"You are _no_t okay right now, Edwin. Not with the fact that she acted selflessly," Imoen told him. "Not with the fact that you killed her. Not with the way this 'guilt' makes you feel like a traitor to your sire. Not with anything. You are mad, frustrated, confused, and maybe even slightly traumatized." He made a noise of furious indignation, but she talked right over him: "And ya know what? Right now I'm not going to argue with you, lecture you, or tell you how you ought to feel. I expect when tomorrow is over, I am never going to see you again. Fine. But right now, I am going to be your friend.

"So," she continued, "I want you to tell me what you need right me to do right now, so that you can vent and recuperate. Do you want me to talk? To listen? To just be silent and sit next to you?"

She was seriously distubing him, and it showed in his alienated grimace. "Y-you think I want you _anywhere near me_, when I am reduced to- to- _this!?_"

Imoen looked around. Then she looked back at Edwin. "I speant the last few days helping you negotiate your clothing to relieve yourself whilst Feebleminded. You picked the weird apprentice, Edwin, remember? _This_ isn't going to be what makes me hate or lose respect for you. Err, unless you want to vent by indulging in unnecessarily graphic verbal depictions of dissection fantasies. Then I'mma hop straight out that door right quick. I have to draw the line somewhere."

He stared at her. A sort of quavering silence passed. Then, when he began to shake, Imoen came back up and sat down beside him.

"I asked old Winthrop about my real parents, once," she began. The abrupt change in topic startled him. "Well, I asked him lots of times. But he only ever answered me once, and that were when I got old enough to figure out the exact quantity of pale amber which made him tipsy enough to be melancholy. He said when I was born, my mum tried to give me up to a dark god in some kind o' ritual, and it were only adventurers crashin' her hideaway that saved my life. He said her name was Alianna."

Edwin stared at her as she looped one of her arms about his and leaned into his shoulder.

{Will you just talk to me? About anything,} she requested. {I'll fill the holes with chatter.}

..

* * *

"You are late," Thalantyr announced, crossing his arms as the party emerged out from the dismal morning fog. "What sort of inn rate do you suppose I ought to be charging?"

"Depends on where you let them sleep: outside, the floor, or did you actually give them rooms?" Aegis grinned as she stepped up to High Hedge's doors and nodded politely to the mage. She had the white-furred squirrel bundled in one arm held it out to him for his inspection. The mage raised a brow and frowned her in disbelief when he realized what he was looking at. "It's a long story," she confessed.

"Well. We are fortunate that we are not looking at a particularly special form of curse _this_ time," Thalantyr muttered, eyeing the squirrel critically. "Let us restore him then. As for your allies; the thief stayed up much of the evening to watch for you, and the Thayvian was sleep-deprived to begin with."

"Imoen could sleep sixteen hour nights if we let her," Aegis answered with a laugh. "We should get her up. Where is she?"

"Up on the second landing," he answered, turning to pick up some pouches of spell components from around the sanctum. "The first door on the right is a guest bedroom. Quite comfortable lodgings, given that this is by no means a tavern."

"Well, In our defense, we were held up by some alarming gnoll shamans who were working magic with absolutely icky fetishes," the ranger assured him.

"Fettishes? did you bring one back to study at least?" he asked, looking suspiciously at her. Aegis rummaged about on her person and then drew out a dreamcatcher that appeared to be made of dryad hair, bones, and skin. "Hnh. Never mind the gold; simply do not impose upon me again," he sniffed disdainfully. "Now come along, I will want to use one of my circles for this..."

"Of course, archmagus," Aegis nodded respectfully, hopping after him. "Hey, Xan-"

"I'll fetch Imoen," the enchanter agreed. "If I don't come back, be cautious with sending in reinforcements. No doubt she'll have guilted me to death and will be primed to do the same onto you."

"Otch, let me grab my shield, I'll come with you," Branwen laughed, following her elf towards the stairs.

..

* * *

Xan knocked politely out of habit, though obviously such measures were insufficient to wake Imoen Winthrop. The door was unlocked and he pushed it open to step within, wondering if he ought to tell her about their new acquaintance or if he ought to leave it as a surprise. He noted that the room's furnishings were sparse but made convenient through magic. There was a small marble counter with a small fountain for continuously fresh water, and a kettle which could work without flame.

Though the bed was full-sized with a proper mattress, Imoen was curled up entirely on the right hand side. While sleeping she'd torn all the covers from their moorings; and her bedding had become a veritable mound atop of her. Her possessions were draped chaotically around the room: the cloak was hung up on a bed poster, the boots stood one tall and one flopped over beside the door, the armor had been 'folded' into a lump on the bedside table, and only her bow and archery bracers had been laid out neatly on the counter top.

Xan paused. Neatly folded alongside Imoen's armor were garments of bright red fabric. Pointed boots peeked out from under the bed.

_Oh *please* don't have, please don't have, please don't have-! _Xan prayed in alarm, darting forward to investigate.

Wrapped about Imoen from behind, with one arm curled under her neck and the other thrown over her side, was Edwin. The Thayvian was pressed flush up against the thief's backside with his face pushed into her hair. He had dressed down out of his robes, but underneath he still wore a layer of black silk garments trimmed in gold needlework. The long sleeves and high collar were visible at the blankets' edges.

_Thank Hanali, _Xan sighed in mute relief. _Nothing happened..._ Branwen leaned in the doorway a few moments later, curious why she didn't hear any chastisements yet. She caught sight of Xan's estranged facial expression and then came up to peer curiously downward.

And then she remembered why it was traditionally bad form to barge into other people's rooms while they were sleeping. She glanced in surprise at this moment of vulnerability and then grabbed Xan by the elbow and tugged him back out of the room. When she spoke, her voice was in a low whisper: "Wee man, you're to wake her up without making comments," she told him sternly. "And then you get yourself out of there and let her handle him in full. Is that clear?"

"I... I wasn't-" Xan protested and then shook his head in disturbed bewilderment. Had the Feeblemind taken hold again? That would make sense.

"Not a _word _about it now," Branwen reinforced. "It is none of our business. And don't you dare wake _him_ up, either!"

..

* * *

The weather was not vastly different many hours to the east, where Gorion nervously paced through the towering atrium of the _Song of the Morning_. The land around them was flat and bore sparse foliage for miles, and the road leading up to Beregost carried parishioners back to the city after a riviting dawn sermon. Men, halflings, and the occasional elf or half-elf murmured quietly to one-another as they departed.

He had been watching the road carefully, and the land around the _Song_ was flat and of sparse foliage for miles in nearly every direction. He was using divinations and enchantments both to comb through the minds about him. He had even set up a number of wards, just to be safe. Yet despite all of his preparations, spellwork, and overall vigilance, he was not in the _least_ surpised when a polite feminine cough echoed up behind him._  
_

The old monk took in a long, slow breath. Then he turned slowly about to behold a short and heavily cloaked figure perched in a small alcove of the masonry just behind him. The hood was like a tattered spectre's cowl, and the armor beneath was a dull black.

"Tallix Snapdragon. You are getting theatrical in your old age," he told her flatly.

"Aye?" the halfling assassin asked him with a chuckle, siting her rump down in the alcove and dangling her legs down the front of it. "Better than getting slow and senile, methinks." Gorion watched her as if he could scarcely believe she was real.

"How are the children?" he asked her.

"Rambunctious, loud, 'n scared silly of their mum," she chuckled, rummaging about on her person for her pipe. "Yers?"

Gorion took a steadying breath. "They are why I invited you here."

"That so?" she wondered, drawing the pipe out and setting to pack it properly. "Boy, couldn't a figured it. Thought maybe ye'd just wanted ta share tea and biscuits and I'd be on me way."

His brows lifted. "You came all the way from _Luiren_," he protested.

"Ye damn straight I did!" she exclaimed, clenching the pipe between her teeth and lighting it. "Ettin's balls, lad, it's three thousand miles- and that's as the raven flies! Thrice that by water and ye sail past every pirate infested eye-sore that were e'er shat out o' the Abyss's bunghole! D'ye realize I'm a hundred and six? A hundred and seven this winter! Ye think I'd a gone and hiked meself _three thousand miles _like some Slaad for no bloody reason!?"

Gorion swallowed. "I... I was not very specific in my letter."

The halfling pulled out a piece of parchment from her breast pocket and blew out a perfectly formed ring of smoke. Then she shook out the leaf of paper and read aloud: " T- I need your help. Song of the Morning, Beregost. Western Heartlands. -G "

The monk was quiet a moment, and had the decency to at least look slightly bashful. Tallix Snapdragon eased back her hood and fixed him with a pointed look. Her hair was entirely gray, and the wrinkles of her face were starting to thicken and crease. There was a hint of matronly jowls to her cheeks, though for a halfling she was still anything but plump. The eye patch continued to supplement her charm the same way it always had.

"Nae," she agreed. "Not _incredibly_ specific. 'Scept there's only so many reasons in the world ye'd be tagging _me_, feathers." She folded the letter with her thumb and pointed at him with it. "Not a king alive who'd a gotten me off my ass and put me on any road west. But ye? For ye, I make exceptions. Now get us inside and start talkin' afore I remember how much me feet hurt. And feed me while yer at it! The hospitality in this country...!"

..

* * *

Imoen's reaction to seeing Drizzt Do'Urden was surprise and delight. She hopped forward to meet him, whilst Aegis and Xan each explained that they had only heard about the Drow ranger through printed stories and bards' tales.

Drizzt, for his part, was slightly bashful. It was clear that he enjoyed traveling freely without people accusing him of being an Underdark marauder, but he preferred to leave the bulk of the fame to the rest of his adventuring party. It was also somewhat awkward to be the star of a narrative which one had never read.

"Hehe, don't worry, you're depicted nearly as shy in the books as you are in real life!" Imoen teased. "I have you know, Aegis named _four_ consecutive mousers 'Guen' because of you. You were totally one of her favorite storybook heroes _ever_. She made me read everything about you."

Aegis turned a funny reddish color. Drizzt smiled at his feet.

Xan lifted a brow at Imoen. "I see. And you didn't have a favorite hero from those tales?"

"Of course I did!" Imoen announced. "Elminster isn't the _only_ neat person in stories."

Aegis turned gray, realizing what was about to happen.

"I see," Xan nodded. "Then who was your favorite character? Regis?"

"No," Imoen laughed. "Jarlaxle. One day I hope to be half as awesome as Jarlaxle. I'm still looking for the right hat..."

Drizzt and Aegis both stared at her as if she had called down the hand of Talos to blow apart their most cherished memories with gratuitous bolts of lightning.

Imoen tapped her chin. "Artemis was a close second; lots of dramatic storytelling potential there."

Aegis rubbed her face. "Cannot tell if unable to separate real-life from books... or is just _really_ attracted to wrong types of men..." the ranger girl muttered.

"By the way, you _really_ need to marry Cattiebrie and have like seven children and name them all after dwarven kings or something, but then one of them after your da, cause that would be cute."

Branwen leaned near Xan. "Are drow supposed to be able to turn that color?"

..

* * *

Drizzt had gone his separate way at High Hedge, and Kivan seemed to be in reasonable spirits. He did notice that the party was surprisingly quiet on its way back to Beregost. Viconia and Edwin, the two members most likely to cause trouble, were each silent for different reasons. Imoen, who usually would have chattered to anyone with an open ear, seemed pensive. He pointed this out to Xan, who shook his head.

Edwin had cast a _Nondetection _spell on both of them, and by Xan's estimation this was clear enough proof that the Red Wizard would be leaving them come the morrow. Hopefully, Dynaheir was ready.

..

* * *

{Imoen, make a suggestion. Think of something; propose something; even if I must surely answer 'no.' It is unnatural of _you_ to be quiet, or to give up on something.}

Imoen glanced up at the Thayvian in bittersweet amusement. {Excuse me. I am trying to be _sad,_ here.}

{Most unatural,} the Red Wizard agreed with his previous assessment..

{Leave the body intact,} Imoen answered, stretching farther across the aisle than any sane person ever would have. {I have the money.}

Edwim winced. {Do you remember I once mentioned friends on the other side of Beregost? While I was waiting for you at the Song of the Morning, I sent a message to them. And when I find _her_, I won't be alone.}

Imoen jumped and then glared up at him. {Well _that_ wasn't a breech of trust,} she growled. {You couldn't wait? We're all still upset about Kagain- poor sod, takin' a dirt nap so soon- and while we're helping you, you send people after _her_?}

{She would have been slipping farther away. I need help in the form of divination. She was no longer part of the party.}

Imoen chewed her lip. {You- Well- _Fuck_.} _  
_

{Ah, the little waif has finally noticed the odds are stacked in my favor.} He paused. {This would not be the first time I had lacked in patience lately,} he admitted.

{Then suck it up, take responsibility for your actions, and fail. Like a man,} she muttered.

{No.}

She threw her arms in the air and eyed him pointedly. He eyed her back; she knew very well why _not_.

{I might- _might- _be able to get away with remaining with the party if she rejoined it,} Edwin said slowly. {I have cohabitated with her thus far without murdering her in her sleep. If we went back to our previous party arrangement, as if nothing had happened, I can continue observing her.}

She frowned. {Are you serious?}

{I am,} he nodded, and it was a big statement to make considering how badly Dynaheir had wounded him. {She is not safe out there. Not from me. Her mission is related to the party's, and she may not have gone farther than a country away. She'd be safer playing the role.}

Imoen grimaced. {I think that ship saild when you went all creepy slaughter-story on her.} He rolled his eyes. {Yes, I know what you're thinking: what you did was _nothing_ compared to the ghoul eating her. But you showed her- all of us- a tremendous amount of ugly. She not going to come back from wherever she's fled to.}

{Have Xan ask her,} Edwin suggested, though he was also rather certain the effort would be useless. {I believe he is in contact with her. No doubt she will have unacceptable terms; but I will at least _bear_ hearing them.}

{Fine. But if you use this letter to work any evil, sneaky magic...}

{You will pulp my head with a rock like a proper barbarian, I'm sure,} he noted.

{Where's Jackal?} she asked suspiciously.

{Running an errand. No evil, sneakies involved there,} he promised.

{And I want you to extend that part of your vow where your promise not to hurt the party for a few days after leaving over Dynaheir.}

He eyeballed her but then shrugged and nodded. {Done.}

They were doomed, and it didn't matter. They wanted to part company on good terms.

..

* * *

Dynaheir frowned, listening to Xan's message and shaking her head.

"Trouble?" Khalid asked.

Dynaheir shook her head. "Edwin was healed. Xan's warning me Edwin might have contacted other Red Wizards. But he's also offering a ceasefire if I rejoin the party."

"Of course you sh-shouldn't-" Khalid straightened. "E-Edwin? Wait. D-did he have something to do with t-this S-spirit!?"

Dynaheir slowly looked up at where the Spirit Bat was being tended to by Jaheira. The creature had been little more than an animal the evening before, shrieking and buffetting them from the trees. Now she held relatively still, her ugly knife wound still puckered and crusted where it had yet to be washed and properly healed. The Wychlaran shook her head in disgust.

"Sister," Dynaheir called to it as Jaheira twisted about to look at her and Khalid, "is there a name I might know you by?"

The bat was quiet a moment. Then she lifted her head. "Sheilaktar," the dead Hathran answered.

..

* * *

Edwin headed almost immediately for the Song of the Morning temple upon reaching Beregost; leaving Imoen to explain to the rest of the party that his curse had been broken and that- in theory- Kelddath would now be able to heal the mental damage with a much milder spell.

Aegis had gotten another lengthy letter from Xzar. After surveying it, she had found a heavily folded paper that stood out from the others. She gave that to Imoen, who was almost instantly struck with melancholy and went off to sit alone in a corner to see what she'd been sent.

Edwin did not return for many hours. When he did so, he went to Aegis and verbally submitted that his resignation from the party would occur at dawn on the morrow. Aegis was not exactly happy with Dynaheir in danger; but she and the entire rest of the party had already foreseen this outcome. She accepted his resignation stiffly.

It was only around fifteen minutes later that he took up residence at the table behind Imoen's, and popped up his spellbook to study.

Imoen sighed.

{Why you sigh and fuss over the contents of loveless notes from foul-smelling half-men is beyond me,} he muttered.

Imoen lifted the note over her shoulder, passing it across to him. He blinked and took it. {Are you healed?} she asked.

{Yes.} Auntie_ Tallix's Hearty Rat Stew, the paper_ read, complete with ingredients. Most of the ingredients would have created quite an incredible stew, and included adjectives and descriptions of exactly how and where from they ought to be stolen in order to taste best. {Oh that's _lovely_. Does this count as a cultural exchange, a dinner arrangement, or is this some form of food-related sharing exercise gone horribly wrong?}

{Lightfoot poetry,} Imoen answered sadly. {I always thought I understood people,} she began slowly, her pace building in a rush. {I understood what they needed or wanted, and made their lives better. I'd say a certain thing, make something happen, calm someone else down, or act a certain way; and I could keep them from doing terrible things.} She turned her palms up, and looked at her hands as if they had failed her. {When Montaron tried to kill my sister, all I could thing was: What did _I _do wrong?}

{Fancy yourself a master puppeteer?} the Red Wizard asked.

{What? No!} Imoen protested, glancing back at him and then out at nothing again. {But I... I failed! I failed to protect my sister; heck, I failed to protect Montaron from _himself_! I couldn't even give him a reason to care about what... what happened to us. I was the one who knew him. Was he just evil? Was there some sign, or something I should have done differently; something that would have kept us all on the same side-?}

{Going too far down that road drives men to madness,} Edwin told her, passing her back the slip of paper. {You and all other entities must- fundamentally- lack perfect control of others; otherwise, free-will would be nonexistent, and we would essentially all be cogs in one infinite entity. Failing any primer on spiritual or planar theory, has not your experience with enchantment taught you _anything_?}

{But people ended up in danger because of me! Because I cared about him, because I believed there were redeeming qualities to him!} Imoen sputtered, rubbing her face with her sleeve. {Aegis nearly died; _Montaron_ nearly died; Samantha Ghastkill _did_ die!} Her face creased with the urge to cry. {Isn't- isn't her death _my_ fault?}

{Nothing you _ever_ do out of innocent kindness could be responsible for what I will do out of _hate _or ambition,} he told her. {The chronological sequencing is _moot_. Cease taking responsibility for such things, or you will end up dead or insane.}

Imoen was quiet a long moment. Then she took in a slow breath. {Xan says he managed to contact Dyn. She says she'd never regroup with a monster like you.}

{I thought I was being _quite_ reasonable,} he noted. {You should contact Archmagus Blackstaff. There's every chance he will take you as an apprentice. He trained Gorion. They may not be dissimilar.}

{I don't want to be a formal apprentice,} she answered.

{Very well. Then he can write to tell you: Exercises forty through eighty-seven, chapter five, A Primer on Curses by Hezipah Nim,} the wizard randomly selected.

Imoen sighed.

..

* * *

{May I come in?}

{I am _bathing, _you simpleton!}

A pause. {Can I come in anyway?}

A sigh. {If you must.}

Imoen took in a slow breath and then pushed the door to the Merchant Suite open. She found Edwin perched on the edge of the tub, a towel hastily draped over him for modesty. He had an enchanted razor against the skin of his arm. Apparently, he was shaving away _every last inch_ of hair from himself.

Imoen blinked, surprised. {What are you-?}

{Mulan are nearly hairless,} the Thayvian answered, washing off the edge of the blade and resuming. {Plucking and shaving what remains is common the noble custom.} He tilted his head to the side, sniffing slightly. {If too much of a bother to maintain on the road.}

He was self conscious about hair? _That_ explained a few of his preferences. The thief stood there for a moment, before something awful occurred to her. {Are you going to shave everything?} she asked suddenly.

He looked at her. {I'm sorry, I started _there_,} he sneered with a growl. {Are you going to insist to look anyway?}

Imoen shook her head. {Are you going to shave your head?}

{Of course!} he sputtered.{(Is she stupid? Mn. Some days...)}

{Oh gods. You are self concious about your _sexiest_ physical attribute,} she lamented. He quirked a brow. {I mean, you know, if you had any. Once you've opened your mouth, you tend to ruin things.}

{I haven't slept enough in the last few days, but I am _sure_ I could put together a similar joke about you,} he noted. {What did you want?}

Imoen squirmed. {You're leaving? For sure? Tomorrow?}

Edwin sighed. {Yes. Blasted witch has a lead on us, but not for long; and when I find her-} he seemed to remember who he was talking to, and restrained himself. {Yes. I am leaving. What of it?}

{Well. I won't be rooming with you. So. Will you please wake me up anyway in the morning before you go? So I can say goodbye to you?}

{Is that all?} he drawled, lifting the razor and slicking his hair back. {If it will silence you, little thief.}

Imoen, who had helped Winthrop shave himself after he'd started developing a humbling bald spot, squirmed a little more. {Let me help,} she requested quick, slipping up beside him. The Thayvian regarded her as if baffled. If she had wanted to, this would have been a very appropriate moment to slit his throat to rescue Dynaheir. But after a long moment he sat up straighter and offered her the knife.

Imoen took it from him. With great reluctance, she turned the edge to his hair and steadied the side of his head with her palm. He held still as she shore away, bit by bit, the signs of his crossbred heritage. There was a distinct tattoo pattern beneath.

When he saw she had things well in hand, he reached to the side for a small cup of black pigment. He lifted it and began dabbing it in the hair of his goatee, eyebrows, and even the tips of his eyelashes.

_Peacock,_ she thought with sad playfulness.

..

* * *

He grimaced on waking, sneering back the edges of a convoluted nightmare that'd posed itself like a mental soup of helplessness. Blasted Feeblemind was _gone_, thank Kossuth, and that-

Startled, Edwin realized he was not alone. Imoen was as the side of the bed. She'd been shaking him awake.

He frowned at her and then blinked in confusion when she knelt on the bed and eased the covers aside. A hiss escaped him and he grabbed her arm to stop her.

The thief paused, looking at him with haunted eyes. The Red Wizard frowned, brows drawing together. Then he'd released her arm and she was climbing in beside him. He was not exactly thrilled or accustomed to this sort of behavior, but Imoen wasn't slowed by his reluctant tenseness. She fastened her arms about his waist and rested her cheek on his collar.

The girl didnt' say a word to him. She settled in to sleep. His posture softened because, whether he liked it or not, her nearness has become familiar. There was a bizarre comfort to her presense, and he decided to close his eyes.

Sleep came and went. He found himself staring at the ceiling in the early morning hours, an arm curled about her shoulders with the fingers caressing absently through her hair. He thought of everything and nothing at all, listening to her breathe.

_I could have held out longer; and simply observed. I did not consider my goals in full that day. I was not patient. _

Edwin could , of course, simply _take_ her by force. One dead Wychlaran was a paltry target for five Red Wizards; and there were many potential slaves to be found in the area if they decided to return directly to Thay. _That_ thought felt strange against the contrast of Imoen's head resting peacefully on his chest. Still, he entertained it now longer than ever before.

_I never want to find out how little you mean to me. _

The first rays of dawn were coming in through the open window. He made a note of them and then took in a slow breath. Without stopping to consider the gesture, he lifted his head an inch and touched his lips to the crown of his apprentice's head. Then he quietly detangled himself from her and stood. He drew on his robes- the top and leggings really _had_ been a good idea in such a climate- and the cape on top of it. He pulled on each boot, tied of his sash, knife belt, and spell components, and shouldered his pack.

Edwin Odesseiron headed for the door. There he paused, looking back at her and watching her sleep for a few moments. Then he shook his head and headed out.

..

* * *

Khelben looked up in surprise at the sound of wing beats. Nothing surprised him more than to see no dove or pseudodragon fluttering about overhead, but rather an infernal bat. It dropped down to hook onto the ledge beside him, a scroll tied across its breast.

Khelben said nothing at first. The creature was obvious a wizard's familiar, which made sending it into his territory quite a gamble. He could easily have caged it in a circle of binding. But more to the point: how had it gotten into the tower? A moment of detecting magic later, and the Archmagus' eyes narrowed.

There were very few people with the knowledge for how to ward a messenger such that it could enter his private tolwer. Which of his inner circle of friends and family members had been harmed or stolen from?

The bat detached its own scroll and offered it nervously out to him, Khelben shook his head, made sure he was ready for any fun surprises, and then lifted a hand to take the scroll. It was sealed in brilliant red wax. Khelben was no Herald, but the fact that it had ben properly imprinted by a signet ring was enough to tell him this had been sent by a nobleborn Wizard of Thay. He mentally prepared himself to have a very bad day.

..

* * *

Ettin: An extraordinarily foul-smelling two-headed ogre/giant who avoids bathing and is covered in layers of grime.

Slaad (plural: Slaadi): A less common DND monster. They are outsiders, like demons or angels, they are Chaotic Neutral aligned, and they resemble toad men.

Luiren: Ancient country of the halflings, and comparable in some respects to Middlearth's Shire. Luiren is in far, far south-eastern Faerun. It is as far east as Thay, and that far again headed south; it would have been nearly impossible for her to have been any _farther_ away without leaving the continent entirely. Tallix is understood to originally hail from Moonsea.


	46. Altruism Interlude

**Altruism**

..

* * *

_"Archmagus Arunsun,_

_This message presumes you are aware of the monk Gorion's demise, and that it brings you grief. If not, then I beseech you still permit my familiar leave safely, and I will not disturb you again. These wards were derived from his spellbook. __His 'daughter,' Aegis, lives. She is traveling with her 'sister,' Imoen, ward of Griswold Winthrop at Candlekeep._

_I am writing to inform you that Imoen is a genuine arcane edeitic. __She is able to store, prepare, and cast spells from memory. She can spellcraft off the cuff and accurately, almost immediately after absorbing new knowledge._

_There is more. She carries significant psychological scarring from having enchantments misused on her as a child. The topic of magic can turn her immediately cold, contrary, and even hostile. __Gorion was able to teach her magic only by exercising extreme care in maintaining her personal space._

_I have managed to pick up the threads of his work and secure her confidence; but soon I will__ no longer be in the position to apprentice her further. She will not leave Aegis at this time and, to my exasperation, she has refused all other available tutors._

_I might be content with letting her squander her talent, but I suppose I have too much appreciation for a fine thing to watch it dissolve and sink into oblivion. Call it pride, perhaps, or insistence that my labor not be wasted. I know many wizards would be eager to get their hands on an edeitic apprentice; and I know most would just as quickly destroy her. I am writing to you because of your connection to Gorion; and if you are interested in her situation, then I advise you to extensive patience._

_As you would be prudent to consider this information suspect, I would like to inform you that Elminster has met her and can vouch for her abilities. The overconfident fool was so taken with her that he not only hinted he intended to offer her an apprenticeship, but outright bedded her. That said, I sincerely doubt he has the softhanded-ness t__o do anything more than drive her further from magic, and I would not recommend you let him breach the topic of apprenticeship with her._

_Sincerely, __Edwin Odesseiron."_

..

* * *

Aegis slowly leafed through the many pieces of paper her lover had sent to her.

_Read these in complete secret. Burn them when you are done. The best I can do from afar is educate you._

Many of the pages had been copied from books with magic, and notes were hastily scribbled in green so that they stood out to her. He'd chosen to write almost exclusively in the Zhentarim Argot base language, and he had added many translations in the margins. It was no wonder he'd requested she burn them when she was done.

_The holy symbol is a skull surrounded by droplets of blood, _he added to many versions of the symbol. _But there is not another diety, past of present, that equips its high priests with bone daggers. There are many less common symbols that you need to be able to recognize. An ebony skeleton; a scythe; a creature that appears half ghoul and half doppelganger; a golden bushel of wheat or thorns stained with blood._

Her eyes traced over the pictures, and she wished that she had one of Gorion's _Potions of the Scholar_ on hand. Perhaps Imoen could make them for her now? She'd have to ask her sister. She did her best to copy some with a bit of charcoal without looking at the originals. After a time, she proceeded forward. There were many more notes.

_The symbols of other deathly dieties, past and present, should be on your mind. Of concern is Cyric. Of interest, perhaps, is Jergal. There are some traits Bhaal properly inherited as Death, which Cyric did not._

Then at last she flipped the page, and paused. She was looking at two murals. They were of nearly identical, cloaked, ebony skeletons with scythes, surrounded by wilting roses and other deathly motifs.

_Both images depict an avatar of Death. This avatar is known as the Slayer, or the Reaper of Souls, and I have only just discovered how ancient it is. You see, the image on the right is a depiction of Bhaal; but the one on the left is Jergal. Aside from the obvious gap in the age of these images, can you see any differences?_

Aegis looked from one to the other. "They're flipped," she realized after a moment. "The scythe's on different sides in each. Is Bhaal left-handed?" She frowned and counted. Then her eyes widened, and she looked to her hands, where an old and invisible scar still itched under her left thumb. "They have eleven fingers, with an extra thumb on their dominant hands." She looked back down at the page.

That Xzar was trying to tell her something was _obvious_.

Aegis shuddered and pushed herself to a sitting position, a cold sweat beading on her skin. She rubbed her arms uncomfortably. Then, although it scared her to do, she leaned back over and discretely counted the number of ribs on each skeleton. "Thirty," she hissed, and then paused as she felt a familiar sensation tingle up her spine. She had just enough time to gather up the papers before the door cracked open and Kivan eased his way in.

[Did I interrupt something?] he wondered, leaning temporarily in the doorway.

Aegis hesitated. Then she sighed, folded the papers, and tucked them back into their envelope. [Actually, I had just come into a desperate need for company,] she confessed.

[Well, I am told mine is dismal,] he noted with a quirk of his mouth that conveyed his surprisingly good mood. [Would you like me to get another's?]

She chuckled as she closed the envelope. [On the contrary; quiet, broody, wild elf rangers are one of my favorite forms of company.] Then she felt fingertips brush her temple, and she looked up to see Kivan had crossed the room and was looking at her in concern. He seemed to notice how shaken she felt, but wasn't certain what to say. People weren't and never had been his strong suite. [I... I'll be fine,] she muttered, shooing away his hand and then rubbing her face.

Kivan watched her openly for a long moment. When she volunteered no information, he turned and unshouldered his bow and quiver. He set these aside, and his cloak and other hunting equipment with them. His actions, slow and deliberate as they were, caught her attention; they were not part of his typical routine.

[I...] she hesitated. [It is not that I don't trust you, Kivan-]

[-Except that you _don't_,] he noted. [Which is fair, given how recently we met.]

[I haven't talked about it with Imoen, either,] Aegis protested. [And I've been with her all the years of my life.]

He paused for a moment. Then he turned back to her. [Then you are _ashamed_ of something?]

Aegis was unsettled and even saddened for a moment, feeling lonely. Then she smirked and lifted her chin challengingly. [What makes you think you'd be _okay_ with hearing whatever I have to say? What if I told you I was the half-ogre bastard offspring of Vhaerun?]

Kivan scowled. Yet he was quiet for a moment, thinking, and his expression softened as he did so. Abruptly, he tilted his head to the side. [Your thoughts are so dark that saying such things to me _lightens _your mood?] he wondered.

Aegis clasped her hands nervously in front of her and wrung them for a moment. Then she looked away. [The halberd is usually a military weapon,] she noted aloud. [I didn't think Wild Elves formed organized armies...]

Kivan straightened slightly. He considered, and then nodded. [I am willing to tell that story,] he agreed. When she still looked hesitant, he came up to the bed and slowly settled down beside her. [Talk to me like you would talk to Urso,] he suggested. [As if I cannot judge you.] She looked at him, wondering if Kivan was aware that he could be quite judgemental at times. He shook his head. [For you, I shall be no more than a wolf.]

..

* * *

When the Zhentarim duo finally returned to Baldur's Gate from a long and uninteresting survey of the northern road, they were not in the best of moods. They kept aware of their surroundings, and ordered their meals, and then glared at each other from time to time as they ate. That neither cared for the other had ever changed their need to operate as a single unit.

Xzar paused abruptly when the tavern switched musicians for the evening. He lifted a brow and watched the small stage ahead of him. He _recognized_ the bard; and for Xzar that was quite unusual. Montaron twisted about in his seat. "Ah..." the halfling murmured appreciatively, licking his lower lip and tapping the hilt of his dirk. "Must be my lucky day. What's the sparkle-boy's name again? Girt? Garret?"

The necromancer nodded but then tilted his head to the side and looked thoughtfully towards the ceiling. Then a smile tugged its way across his face. "Ah yes. Garrick," he recalled. "If memory serves, your tavern wench took comfort in his arms the evening after you betrayed her. Quite sad and touching that all was."

Montaron twisted to look at Xzar with a snap, an ugly snarl dripping his mouth low. He slowly settled down his tankard.

"Aw, little half man," Xzar cooed, having apparently forgotten that he had speant months trying to get the bard killed, "he only picked that bit of purple trash you discarded off the ground. How can you be jealous of a man who cleans up after you?"

"Careful, wizard," Montaron growled, leaning over the table and drawing out the dirk threateningly. "Or I might forgets meself and put this here knife in ye instead of him."

Xzar rolled his eyes and waved a hand, unbothered by the threat. "_You're_ writing to her now," he noted, curious to see how Montaron would react. The halfling scowled, and didn't seem to want to talk about that. Xzar regarded his partner; and for the very first time he considered that working _with_ Montaron to get back to the party might be more productive than working _against_ him. "She's a sweet girl," he tested innocently.

Montaron pointed at him with the dirk. "Shut. Up."

"A girl, Monts?" a rough female voice asked from beside them in the same Moonsea accent and dialect. Montaron jumped and turned about, looking with surprise as a cloaked halfling kicked her boots up on the table beside them and lit a pipe. "Now _this_ is a story I need ta be hearin'!"

Montaron stared for a moment. Then he sat up, retracting his dirt to sheathe it and pick up his tankard. "Auntie? I'd heard ye was dead," he said, in a mildly surprised and conversational tone of voice that suggested he came from a family where such words were said with regular frequency of almost all its members. Xzar jumped and looked at the woman in astonishment.

"Minus one, add two, plus some walking," the woman retorted in an off-hand sort of way that suggested she _often_ muttered jokes no one around her understood.

"You have a _family!?_" Xzar gasped of Montaron. "With _real people_!?

The halfling looked at him for a moment. "Sometimes, wizard... sometimes..." he muttered, at a loss for how one responded to such a question.

The halfling woman inhaled of her pipe. "This is yer partner then? Specialize in raisin' dead?" she asked. Montaron hissed for her to be not so loud, but Xzar shrugged.

"Minus one, add two," the necromancer responded coyly. He saw the woman's mouth twitch in amusement beneath her hood. _Two Deathstalkers and a Cyrite walk into a bar..._

"Aw see, don't encourage him," Montaron told her, scooting to make room for her at their table. Family, rough as it might have been, was infinitely better company than insane wizards. "The hells brings ya out to Baldur's Gate?"

The halfling woman swung her feet down and picked herself up. She dragged her chair over with the back end facing the table, and then sat to straddle it. "Don't you think I went and forgot that mention of a girl," she told him, pointing at Montaron with the mouth of her pipe. "I want that story first."

"Nah, ya don't wanna-"

"Wellll!" Xzar interrupted. "I'll tell you everything! He had a steady girlfriend with an enormous rear end and bosom, who was completely sweet on him and cooked for him and always made sure to pack plenty of sourdough and cheese sauce on extended dungeon crawls. _And_ she was a thief. And young, with a strong libido."

The woman looked at Montaron and leaned back as if incredibly impressed by him and attempting to study him in full. "The _devil'd _you manage to pull that off?"

"That's not the end of the story!" Xzar waggled his arms. "There was a five thousand gold bounty on her sister's head." Tallix looked at him in surprise. Montaron looked like he was going to try and sneak away from the table, and his face was scrunched up as if in pain.

"Well, I can understand the allure. Tried to take it and got caught, did he?" she asked.

"_Worse_," Xzar told her. "He didn't even have an alabi or a scape goat! He just waltzes up before we were supposed to be _temporarily_ leaving the party and tries to slit the mark's throat while she's sleeping. Her sister was right outside the door! It was terrible, auntie."

The woman gaped. Then she slowly lowered her hood and turned about to fix her nephew with quite a serious eye. Only one eye, as it turned out; she wore an eyepatch where the other had been. Montaron was half out of his chair, but paused immediately and stared up at the woman meekly "Montaron Snapdragon," she began in a very serious tone. "What the _hell_? Ye mean ta tell me ye had the sort o' lady men get wet dreams fantasizin' about, and ye went and blew it- intentionally- for gold?"

"Well it wasn't a _small_ bit of gold!" the halfling protested, holding his hands out pleadingly.

His auntie looked ready to gnaw her pipe to pieces. "O' course it weren't no small bit o' gold, ye daft cracker, it ain't ever a small bit o' gold which tempts ya into killin' family! And did ya ever see a coin o' it!? Ya do the deed and ya don't get caught, that's yer profession! And I could forgive ye for incompetance but this-! this-! Not even tryin'-!? The hell's the matter with ye lad, ye get hit by half a fit o' guilt and miss the other half!?"

"_He's_ the one who woke the mark!" Montaron exclaimed, pointing at Xzar.

"Alright I need a bag of rotten vegetable produce ta lob at ye while I shout 'boo,'" the woman muttered, looking around, and Xzar lifted a hand to his own mouth to stiffle giggles. There was something _delightful_ about this woman! "Maybe some ogre piss for flavorin', little bit of shit drippin's on the side..."

"I'm not a kid-! I'm sixty-!" Montaron protested.

"Yer girl was _standin' outside_ lad! That's just _sloppy_! Disgrace it is!"

Xzar interrupted with: "I'm afraid we've not been properly introduced, little auntie! I am Xzar."

The woman snorted. "Tallix," she responded after a moment, giving him a hand to shake. "Tallix Snapdragon."

Xzar blinked. "You and Montaron have the same surname," he noted of the woman. "Are you unmarried yourself?"

"Well aye, but I'm his aunt on his ma's side; halfling surnames are matrilineal," Tallix explained, calming down a little bit now that she was distracted. "Unmarried, pah, ya'd think he'd take it from me! A hundred and seven, and even _I_ can't find a spouce with a good arse who cooks for me, and he goes and trades one for gold... Only man who's ever cooked for me's been-" she paused. "Huh, now _there's_ an odd thought."

"It's over now," Montaron groused red-faced, wanting this conversation to be over but unwilling to take hostile action against the woman for one reason or another.

Tallix blew a smoke ring at him. "Pah! All the stories I brought home about what's important in the world, and ye brats ain't ever heard a word! I tell ye not ta join the Zhentarim, ye join. I tell ya not ta mix yourself up with the wrong peoples, ya mix yerself," she went on muttering and puffing away at her pipe, while Montaron glared at Xzar and then looked sullenly at the old woman. Clearly, she was someone he both respected and feared; so Xzar adored her immediately.

"How's me coz?" Montaron asked after a moment.

"Ye got _three_ cousins. Eldest's 'bout ready to leave the nest."

"She'd be twenty-three," Montaron noted in surprise.

"Aye, and if I can keep her home till twenty-six or so I'll maybe get her past the arson phase," Tallix noted thoughtfully. "Alright, listen here ya limp-dicked, eye-sore of a boy, and then I be done talkin' ta ye for the evening." Xzar snickered, and Tallix eyed the necromancer to hush him. He obeyed immediately. "Right now, I'm getting too on in years to say this many more times, so _this_ time try to remember it. The people ya know'll have yer back when all the chips are down: that's what's important, lad." She jabbed her finger at Montaron. "Nae gold, not fancy gear, not power, or positions- it's _your _people! People in the right place at the right time, be they sewage bums or high priests; _they're_ yer family away from family."

Montaron scowled, but said nothing when Tallix stood and reached out to rub his shoulder affectionately.

"Oh do stay, auntie," Xzar pleaded. "I will even buy you dinner!"

That gave Tallix Snapdragon pause. "Ho, you're a clever sort. Nae, I'll be around for a few days," the woman told him. "Just got off the road, though, and need a good sleep. Old bones don't take long hikes like young ones, I'm sure ye'd know."

..

* * *

The first thing Shar-Teel did when she saw Ajantis that morning was come up behind the man, spin him around, and punch him clear across the face. The paladin stumbled backwards, but he was used to being greeted by Shar-Teel in this fashion and so did not retaliate. The party, who had been eating breakfast and arguing, jumped at the interruption and turned to look at her.

"You bastards _left_ _me here_!" she thundered.

"No," Ajantis disagreed, standing his ground. "We tried to wake you. You hit Viconia and I had to heal her black eye and split lip."

Shar-Teel stiffened. Then, after a long silence, the fightress turned an almost bashful look down to Viconia and scuffed her feet awkwardly. "I did that?"

Viconia nodded. "It was very humiliating," she sniffed haughtily, as if scolding Shar-Teel for forcing her to accept help from a man.

"Oh," the fightress coughed. "I'm- I'm sorry about that." Watching a large and ill-tempered woman in a horned hobgoblin helmet look embarrassed was _quite_ a sight.

"Yes, well, see that it does not happen again, or I shall return the favor tenfold," the drow replied.

Xan stood up slowly, and came up to them with a puzzled look on his face. "Much as I might enjoy sitting back and watching you assault the paladin, I must ask: How did you recognize us under illusion?" he asked of the fightress.

Shar-Teel placed her hands on her hips, and sneered at the diminutive elf. "I suppose you think I'm _stupid _because I'm a big girl using a sword instead of relying on _charms_, eh?"

Ajantis and Viconia shared a look of camaraderie behind her back that suggested their reaction to the violent woman's return had been planned in advance. Branwen tried not to laugh; Shar-Teel was sharper than most people would have given her credit for, and certainly sharper than Branwen herself! But then so was Edwin. It didn't mean they typically got the best of people.

Shar-Teel gave a mocking laugh at Xan's frown. "Let's put it this way: you're not as clever as _you_ think you are. That bitch Vai is still cleaning up the remains of the two scouts who noticed you enter the town last night." She cracked her knuckles for emphasis.

Another awkward silence passed over the group. Kivan stiffened in surprise and then glowered uncertainly at the thuggish woman. It _was_ much harder to keep tabs on a group this size than it was to sneak about on his lonesome. He would have to ensure mistakes of this caliber did not occur again. Xan shook his head in surprise. "Shar-Teel, we are..._ thankful_ for your assistance... and for the entertainment of watching your interactions with Ajantis. At the same time, you have certainly repaid your debts to us. You _can_ leave, at any time. Is... there some reason you still feel obligated to stay with us?"

The fightress' scowl darkened as she stared down at him. Then she began to look uncomfortable, and at last straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Not with _you_," she growled at last, and then looked to Aegis. "But I'm no fool: I know I fought carelessly against the undead, and if it hadn't been for the party's clerics, I would have died. I was a liability, an outsider, and you- Aegis- you still diverted the party and made camp for my sake..."

Behind her, Viconia turned a wry and amused grin up at Ajantis, who had folded his arms over his chest and was shaking his head at the fightress in resigned disbelief. Although Viconia and Branwen _had_ purged Shar-Teel of poison and Ghoul Fever, her real rescuer had very obviously been Ajantis.

Aegis blinked in surprise and then, after some thought on the matter, wondered two things: One, if perhaps Shar-Teel's expectations on people's generosity were as jaded as Montaron's; and Two, if perhaps this was Shar-Teel's weird way of dealing with being rescued by a man.

"This party might have a few _problems,"_ Shar-Teel muttered, glancing at Xan, "but it's a collection of some of the best women I've met in years. So if it's all the same to everyone here, I'd... I'd like to stick on for awhile to help you ladies out, that's all."

Viconia couldn't help herself: "And this has _nothing_ to do with why, at the spring, you speant five minutes up on that wall watching Xan bathe before we climbed up to join you?"

Shar-Teel stiffened, her face screwing up into a horrified grimace and her eyes widening. She didn't look back at Viconia. If she had laughed it off or gotten irritable, Xan would have easily ignored the taunt. As it was, he took one look up at Shar-Teel, and then his facial expression twisted nearly to match hers. _Seldarine no. No no no._

Ajantis smirked. He looked down at Viconia as if attempting to be reproachful, but she winked at him and he chuckled silently. Served both of them right, that did.

"Well," Aegis sighed, reaching over to pull a thoroughly paralyzed Xan back a few steps from Shar-Teel. "That was awkward. Thanks for that, Vic-"

She was interrupted by a rush of motion and a violent shout of: "TEMPUS!"

..

* * *

"I am bored. I'm bored. I'm bored. Bored. Bored bored bored bored-"

Neimain settled down his latest reports and glared at the necromancer who, after delivering his assessment of the northern road, had thrown back his head and was now whining in horribly grating tones. Xzar noticed the attention, and smiled childishly at his superior.

Oulam, at their side, laughed lovelessly. "You are _bored_ of serving the Zhentarim?" he asked in a nasally voice. "I suppose we should put that in our reports."

"You are ugly," Xzar told the cyrite, despite the fact that the other man outranked him. His position would be Xzar's soon enough. "You smell of sewage and brothel incense, and spend too much time bathing in names for yourself." He turned a petulant look back to Neimain. "Please? Please? Please please please please?"

"I have already told you to go exploit the Harper group a second time," Nemain reminded him. "Yet here you are..."

"I can't!" Xzar protested. "It's that half man; He is so aggravating! He ruins everything! It is disturbing to my demeanor-!"

"That is _your_ problem, not mine." Neimain growled, looking back to his papers.

"Ohhhh, and what am I supposed to dooo?" the necromancer pouted and cooed like an angry grandmother, planting his hands on his hips and leaning forward with thoughtfully pursed lips. "Hellooo, sweet friends, yes, I know you were never quite happy with me to begin with and my dear accomplice here did attempt to murder your leader in her sleep, but would you pleeaasee consider forgiving us? We're ooonly Zhents, after all, how bad can we possibly be?"

Oulam smirked. "Perhaps if you cannot manage your tasks the way they've been assigned, we should simply send another _wizard_ entirely to guide the party."

Neilaim looked up from his reports, his disbelieving expression conveying that he could not _believe_ he had such incompetent simpletons to work with. Xzar looked wide-eyed at Oulam for a moment. Then he spun to Neilaim and clasped his hands together. "Oh please send him. _Please_ send Oulam to them!" he begged.

Neilaim sighed mutely. The cyrite sneered. "You think _you_ are capable of what _I_ am not?"

"Of course not!" the madman exclaimed. "Please, proceed immediately to join their party and prove how much more capable you are than me! I must know- I _must know!_- will she be able to send you back to us in wineskin!? Can she chop finely enough while enraged!? The lack of answer is tormenting me, I tell you, _tormenting me_!"

Neilaim dropped his reports to the table and rubbed his face. Despite being a wizard, Neilaim was reduced to acting as nothing more than their strategic leader; he was under the thrall of a powerful magic item called _The Jester's Folly_, and though he had found ways to mitigate most of the worst effects, he still remained heavily magically incapacitated. It left him fit for little more than planning and paperwork, and made him entirely dependent on the competence of his underlings.

Xzar didn't imagine his superior slept much at nights. He tried to be nice to the man, a lesson which watching purple thieves had taught him: "Neilaim, Neilaim, are we really going to pass up the opportunity of the bandit camp because one itty bitty assassin can't keep higher priorities in mind?" the madman wheedled. "Hmm? Be reasonable with me. I'm a vulture; bluffing trust out of a herd of deer wasn't an easy card game. My influence is subtle; I can't _impose_ Montaron on them. _Help_ me. I want only an obstacle cleared so I can do my job the way you need it done."

"Eager to be _loosed_, are you?" Oulam muttered, still a little put-out by images of being rendered into a liquid. Xzar's madness was hardly more palatable to cyrites than it was to anyone else; it was only the most devoted or dramatically concious clerics who took pleasure in such things.

"Eager to be back working on my theory for the reanimation of Formians," the necromancer muttered, getting a far-off look. "So many limbs! I'm hoping they'll be interchangeable, so I can use flesh-crafting to sculpt different tools for different- bah, I'm sure it would be lost on you, snot nosed, yellow-livered, I do like the color yellow, almost as much as green; it's the color of surprise, I'm sure of it..."

..

* * *

The topic of conversation that morning was: Did they have what it took to assault the bandit camp?

"We can't do it without Edwin and Dynaheir," Aegis decided at last, interrupting the arguing group. Kivan's jaw tightened, and she held up a hand to stem the tide of protests. "Things have changed. We're going up against a small army on their home turf, and suddenly we don't have the right people."

"We've made war on bigger numbers before!" Branwen protested, remembering the kobolds. Then she frowned. "Otch, you're right. Damn. We had _four_ wizards in Nashkel, didn't we? Xan's sleep spells are still pretty potent." She looked over at where the elf was sitting cross-legged beside her, meditating and casting out his _Detect Thoughts_ to keep a careful watch over the inn. If there were any bandit scouts this time, he'd catch them.

"We're a very competent team," Aegis agreed, tapping her fingers on the table. "Xan has his spellbook, and we've just earned a load of money for upgrading all our gear to the finest stuff available. But this is about _ratios_. We need the right skill pool to take on like twelve men per one of us, and all without a single casualty on our parts."

"Much as I don't miss the fat, red pig, our leader's definitely got a point," Shar-Teel said past the frozen leg of lamb she was holding to her gratuitously swollen left eye. "The only thing I want to add is that it _isn't_ just about ratios. It's about strategy. There are things you can do to flatten out an uneven fight. For example, we are going up against a camp of canvas and scavenged caravan pieces; you throw a _Fireball _in there and everything's suddenly on fire. Then you've changed the whole game."

"You're suggesting we break their morale," Viconia noted, stroking her chin and contemplating the fightress. "Well, I may be able to _help_ with that. But we have gone from twelve to eight, and we are definitely missing a magical strong arm."

"Wizards aren't common or cheap," Shar-Teel noted, lowering the lamb to dab gingerly at her eye. It was _quite_ a beautiful purple.

"Then it's fortunate we have money and know one more wizard," the drow pointed out. "A mercenary, in fact, uniquely equipped for demoralizing an entire army. And who coincidentally is in the area and on nearly the same mission."

Aegis stopped drumming her fingers, and laid her hand flat on the table. "I've been thinking about that. And if everyone's game, then we need to contact Mayor Ghastkill. He's the only respectable person we know who has any idea how to get a message to the Zhentarim to let them know we'd like to hire a necromancer. I think it'll come off a little more professionally that way, don't you?"

Ajantis tensed. Branwen frowned. "I thought the problem wasn't whether Xzar could rejoin us, but more about us getting Montaron as part of the package?" she asked.

Aegis' mouth quirked; she was still trying to digest the fact that Branwen had dive-tackled Shar-Teel in full war-mode, mauled the fightress, and then hopped calmly back to Xan's side no more than five minuets later with her nose broken and a smile on her face as if nothing particularly untoward had happened. Xan had declined to comment on the whole situation, and seemed glad enough to put it behind him. Remarkably enough, Shar-Teel had never questioned Branwen on _why_ exactly she'd been mauled; both women seemed to know exactly what line had been crossed, and to accept the means by which the situation had been resolved.

It hadn't escaped Aegis' attention that Viconia- the instigator of the fight- had gone un-molested for the entire event. "Well," the ranger woman said slowly, "if we approach it this way, I sincerely doubt the Zhentarim would be so _unprofessional _as to try and rent us a merc we'd had problems with in the past. More likely that Montaron will end up keeping an eye on him from afar, but that's the tradeoff we'll be working with."

Viconia glanced at Kivan, and then back to Aegis. "Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem."

Aegis leaned back from the table. "Let's not get in trouble for underestimating anyone. Montaron's an opportunist," she told them. "Like, the only reason he wouldn't sell us out to the bandits is because he can't." She was quiet a moment. "Considering this plan involves me getting my paramour back, I'm of the opinion I might be biased. So let's hear alternatives?"

"Well, there is Dynaheir," Xan said, coming out of his meditative pose. "We could offer her sanctuary; and she might return to us if it means help against Edwin. I am still in contact with her."

Viconia laughed. "Yes. Because after destroying an entire camp of bandits, whilst exhausted and drained of spells, I really want to die to a talentless, pompous windbag who can walk invisibly straight into the middle of the party, cover us in fireballs, and then teleport out again if any of us survive. If he's lucky, he'll even get to enslave his little 'apprentice' while he's at it."

"And here I thought I was the doomsayer. Why then do we ever bother to do _anything_ if it could leave us vulnerable to assassins?" the elf quipped sarcastically.

"You _really_ think he'll strike Dynaheir when we're strongest? Unfortunately for all of us, Edwin knows our agenda. He knows we have to go to the camp eventually. All he has to do is wait, and he knows we'll weaken ourselves. Don't be stupid."

Xan made a face. "Dynaheir has Jaheira with her," he announced as counter argument. "We'd be adding _four_-"

Viconia laughed. "You seem to have forgotten my ears are the same shape as yours. I overheard you speaking to Aegis, and I know that Edwin has four full blown Red Wizards with him. Dynaheir is my friend, and I'm not about to suggest we hire the Thayvians to level the bandit camp for us in exchange for help tracking her down. But Dynaheir's job right now is to be _invisible_. Partying up would be a mistake both for us and for her."

Xan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He thought about this for a bit, and then gave Viconia a begrudging look. "You're right," he realized. "We'd be painting an enormous, red 'X' on ourselves. It would be suicide. We'll be free to recruit Dynaheir immediately afterward, but not now."

Viconia toasted the elf with her morning coffee. "All the more reason for us to snag to the necromancer quickly, so we can trash the bandit camp and get our Wychlaran back."

"That's the plan then," Aegis agreed. "It still may take a couple days to figure this out; so let's gear up and look for odd jobs. Ghastkill might also ask us for something."

"Hey Bran," Shar-Teel called, interrupting the conversation.

Branwen very deliberately picked her malus up and clanged it down on the table. "Hey! This here's a nice weapon, don't you think? I mean, look at it, now: look at that craftsmanship, the handle, the spike, the head! You ever seen something wrought so fine? Why, it's like a perfect instrument of stubborn-arse head-crackin' it is- beautiful!"

Shar-Teel grinned. "How do you feel about this last bratwurst I have on my plate, eh? It's a good one."

Branwen perked up and eyed the fightress suspiciously. "I... have been... _known_ to forgive grudges for heartlands bratwurst..." she said slowly. "But I'm not sure about that one... I already set your teeth back to rights, didn't I?"

Shar-Teel stabbed up the last sausage and offered it out to Branwen. The Norheimer eyed the offered brat for a long moment. Then she swiped it and sampled it one big bite. She considered its taste for a moment, before shrugging and reaching over the table to bestow another healing spell on the fightress' face.

Ajantis watched and then sighed. "Aegis, is it entirely necessary that we deal with the _Zhentarim_?"

Xan eyed the paladin irritably. "Ajantis, the Zhentarim is the largest supplier of mercenaries in the region. And assassins. Assuming we wish to survive- which I really hope we all do- then we are going to benefit tremendously if the Zhentarim believes that our actions will help 'help' clear their name. We are not working for them, or employing their value system; we just want them to see us as the lead racehorse. Not to mention the fact that with Harpers and Zhents _both_ invested in us, we are much more likely to track down the answers to big mysteries in short order."_  
_

"Evil is not to be appeased," the paladin muttered. "It is to be dealt with wherever it is found."

Viconia elbowed him. Ajantis blinked and then perked up as if to say something. Then he frowned and got a far-off look. After a moment, he seemed incredibly confused, and looked uncertainly down at her as if asking her for explanations on how he'd found himself in such a predicament. Viconia rolled her eyes and patted his arm.

"Are you two _also _fucking now?" Shar-Teel asked with a smirk. "What's with all the touchy-touchy?"

Ajantis jumped, and Viconia gave a second roll of her eyes. "Shar-Teel, dear, the only person Ajantis is sleeping with- or has ever slept with- is you," the drow cleric purred. The paladin went stalk white. "So tell me, Shar-Teel, and this is very important:" Viconia continued, "Would you perhaps accept an offer of holy matrimony? I know it is strange to hear this from me, but you must understand that he is incredibly shy and embarrassed by his behavior. You see, he fears he's besmirched your honor, and he wishes to marry you to rectify things. Obviously his family is well-off and will be capable of catering to your every need till the end of your days. You will, of course, be expected to produce male heirs, but-"

Shar-Teel stood up, and grabbed up her chair, threatening to throw it. Viconia grinned and lifted her hands palactingly. Shar-Teel eyed her, raising the chair threateningly. Viconia beamed as innocently as Imoen. The fightress scowled, but then a grin worked its way across her face, and abruptly she broke out laughing. She dropped the chair with a large clatter, and laughed hard. Finally she wiped her face.

"You're one _hell_ of a bitch," she complemented the drow. "Mm. I think I need to go take a piss," she thought aloud, and then waved briefly to them and headed off. Aegis shook her head and sighed.

Ajantis let out a large breath he'd been holding. Then, several moments later, he abruptly reached out and seized the smug drowess about the waist, hauling her into a bear hug.

By the look on her face, Viconia had _absolutely_ no idea what was going on, and had never been hugged by any living creature before in her life. She seized up in a way that reminded Aegis of Kivan, and the look on her face was just as fight-or-flight oriented. It was perhaps only by the fact that Aegis broke out laughing that Viconia realized she was neither under attack nor on the verge of being molested.

..

* * *

"Oulam," Neilaim muttered. "We do not need your running commentary. You have your task; attend to it."

The cyrite sneered, as Xzar had been the one rambling. Nevertheless he nodded, turning to leave the room. Xzar giggled and tilted his head to the side, looking to his superior. "Far be it from me to inconvenience you. When is the earliest he can show up 'missing'?" the madman asked.

"I need him for at least another week," the older wizard retorted. Xzar clapped happily. "Keep it clean and anonymous."

The necromancer rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly waging a one-man crusade. You don't have to remind _me_."

"If _that _is on your mind, apparently I do," Neilaim muttered, eyeing Xzar with narrowed eyes. "What else do I have to remind you of? Of how 'splendidly' we fared in the Time of Troubles?" he growled sarcastically. "Of the coup that devastated our wizarding ranks? Of how they upended the best necromantic cabal on Faerun, killed off hundreds of our best research minds, and lost nigh all the rest to the asylum offered by our rivals?"

Xzar turned a dark look on him, and Neilaim shook his head:

"Do not forget it took seven years to get you released back to your fellow wizards, Xzar. Do not forget that you are still on _loan_ to us from the clerics in Darkhold. Your scant surviving peers were at least wise enough to observe that Cyric is the the first _complete_ death god since Jergal, and to make the best of things-"

"I will _never_-!"

"I do not _care _what you believe in," Neilaim muttered, "but _they_ do, and Bhaalites do _not_ have the same protection here as Banites. You are vulnerable. You could hardly be _more_ vulnerable even if you were presently a _Shadow Thief_."

Xzar scowled. "Cyric is our _Lolth_, and will render us just as sterile. Every organization that turns to him _implodes_. His insane and intolerant jealousy has severely undermined our organization to the point where we have more than halved our numbers, swollen our ranks with incompetent and delusional maniacs, and lost tremendous ground on nearly every front. The Thayvians are starting to out-trade us on black markets from here to Sembia! Thayvians! The xenophobic, self-sabotaging grandstanders out east who all want to be gods and believe in world-domination through military force!"

"Yes! Yes this is a bad situation! You know that; I know that; I'm sure Manshoon knows that; Nigh every fool in the Zhentarim with half a brain knows it!" Neilaim snapped. "But until the political climates swings back in the right direction, _we_ are smart enough to play the game! We don't oppose the suddenly all-powerful death god who inherited _three_ separate pools of worshipers, worshipers whom he tells to run around indiscriminately slaughtering 'infidels.' And we certainly do not do it without any god or clerics of your own!"

Xzar crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at the ground. _Mental note to self: Build girlfriend a cult._ Then he looked warily up at Neilaim. "Why... why did this subject come up?" he asked uncertainly. The older wizard stood slowly, and contemplated him with something resembling pity. Xzar didn't like that look; especially not when it came from other Zhents. Historically speaking, it meant that someone who appreciated his talents was about to martyr him to appease someone who _didn't_.

"What did I do?" the madman asked meekly, his posture deflating slightly as the other wizard approached him. "Nothing, I did nothing. I have been a wonderfully well-behaved and vicious little puppy, and behaved exactly as I ought: by killing or defacing everything in my way. Yes. Absolutely. No? Why are you looking at me like that!? What did I do?!"

"Most likely nothing," Neilaim sighed irritably, reaching into his robes and pulling out an envelope of black vellum. Xzar shrank at the sight of it as if it were something incredibly poisonous which he had yet to inoculate himself against. "I haven't even bothered to let them know you've shaken the edge of your madness off. No. Tell me, Xzar... what do you know of the half-fiend called 'Xvim' they have locked up beneath Zhentil Keep?"

The necromancer looked from the envelope up to Neilaim. "He's hardly 'locked up' now, no matter what they say. He's Bane's son, and soon he'll be Bane," Xzar told him flatly. Neilaim blinked in surprise. "Half the Keep has already pledged themselves to him in secret, and he can get into the dreams of ex-Banites without alerting Cyric."

"You know that?" the older wizard asked curiously.

Xzar straightened haughtily. "A cleric of a dead god is an interesting thing," he answered contemptuously. "I would know a _real _member of the Dead Three if I were little more than a vegetable. The god of Tyranny will live again before the decade is out, and there will be order in the Zhentarim."

Neilaim eyed him for a moment. "That explains things, then," he noted, looking off introspectively. "True cyrites are loud and irrational; they are going to howl, claw, and grab at every last inch of power the moment they feel the earth churning beneath their feet. And if you're right about Xvim, then I suppose they must be feeling one hell of a churning." He offered the envelope to Xzar, and turned a serious look back on him. "But until we're ready for that coup, _our_ prerogative is avoid a second culling. That means appeasing the fools in Darkhold, even when they severely foul up our work. And that means letting them use _you_ to make their 'examples.' "

Xzar did _not_ want to take the envelope.

"Do _not_ fail to give them what they want, Xzar," Neilaim told him. "You are the last of a very old Order. Our higher ups were willing to pull a great many strings on your behalf, and it is my intention to keep you safe. But no one can help you if you deliberately disobey orders in such a politically charged climate; they're not yet _ready_, and they will sacrifice you if you force their hand. So serve and obey, bide your time, and take vengeance when vengeance comes; with the rest of us."

..


End file.
